Disclaimer: I'm not cool enough to own Harry Potter. I am cool enough, however, to spend all my free time writing obsessively about JK's characters.

A/N: Okay, so…even though it seems AU now, just trust me when I say it fits the story.

Pretending To Live

Chapter 4: Explanations and Deadlines

'I need you to go back in time.'

Dumbledore took advantage of our sudden, shocked silence and began.

"These passing months, Voldemort has become increasingly powerful, gaining the alliances of the Dementors, the giants- you remember your fifth year, Harry- and I have recently received word of his attempts to instigate contact with the centaurs.

"At first I did not notice this atypical behaviour- as most of you know, it is not Voldemort's nature to form alliances- for I was quite preoccupied with matters of equally, if not greater importance."

Here Dumbledore drew up the midnight blue sleeve of his robe that had been covering the deformed appendage he had silenced us with earlier, and I felt Harry tense.

"This," he said, staring at his hand with a curious sort of fascination, "is the product of my endeavours."

The part of my brain that hadn't been turned into Elmer's Glue was busy translating what Dumbledore said. Endeavours? Horcux-hunting, is that what he means? He'd found Gaunt's ring, then... the Second Hallow... the Resurrection Stone.

'Have any of you heard of the term 'Horcrux'?'

I watched as Hermione frowned as bit her lip thoughtfully, mulling it over. 'I...I think I've come across the term researching for a Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment, but there wasn't much on the subject.'

'No. I shouldn't think so,' Dumbledore replied kindly with a searching gaze. 'And I'd be shocked if there was.

'It's a very dark piece of magic, you see my dear, and very few wizards even choose to ever bring up the subject- a Horcrux, you see, is a part of a wizard's-or witch's- soul in a magical container.'

'A part of a soul?' Ron asked, both his eyebrows moving dangerously close to his hairline. 'What d'you mean by that, Professor?'

Dumbledore formed a bridge between his fingers on the desk as he surveyed everyone intently, his gaze lingering a little on Harry and I.

'I mean,' he said slowly, carefully, 'that- should they choose to- a witch or wizard can split their soul and store it somewhere that is separate from their body, as a sort of...backup should the original piece be destroyed.'

'Well, how do you destroy a piece, then?'

There was a short pause in the room.

'The Killing Curse, Ronald,' Hermione said finally, a strange look coming over her face. 'To destroy someone's soul... is to destroy the person himself.'

Ron's face paled. 'Blimey,' he whispered, horrified. 'So does that mean...that You Know Who...'

'Is the farthest anyone can get to immortal in this day and age, yes.' Dumbledore surmised, the lines on his face seeming deeper, as if they had been engraved there.

'Well, if he only made one, then there's still a chance, right?' Harry argued and I winced. 'We can still fight-'

'Yes that is true, if he had only made one.' Dumbledore cut in.

'Well, how many did he make, sir?' Hermione asked, frowning.

Here we go, this is it, I thought.

'Seven.' Dumbledore answered, and immediately, the entire table burst into uproar.

'-he made seven!'

'-bloody hell, how're we supposed to fight now-'

'-are you certain of this , Professor? Father didn't mention-'

'- could he split his soul into seven pieces-'

Dumbledore let them continue on for a while until the clamor began to rise, before he began speaking.

'It is true that Voldemort has made seven Horcruxes, and yes, Mr Malfoy, I am certain of my information. I have excellent contacts, you see.

'The pieces of Voldemort's soul have been hidden by himself and, until recently, I have made my priority to find and destroy as many of them as I can, in hopes of restoring Voldemort's mortality.'

'But sir, they could be anything!' Harry said, alarm evident in his expression and his hair even wilder than usual. Strangely, something about what he said struck a chord of familiarity in me. I'd heard that somewhere before... 'They could be old tin cans, or, I dunno, empty potion bottles…?"

'You're thinking of Portkeys, Harry,' I said without thinking.

Harry looked at me confusedly, eyebrows drawn worriedly. 'What?'

I blinked. "Hm?"

I looked up towards the head of the table to see Dumbledore's half surprised half understanding expression, as if he knew how I managed to steal his next words out of his mouth. Oops.

'Erm, perhaps you should elaborate on that, Ari,' Dumbledore hurriedly supplied, obviously reading my mind and coming to my rescue.

I stared, flabbergasted, at him. "Uh...sure."

I cleared my throat self consciously as I faced everyone at the table,( not an easy thing to do when half the people there think you're some sort of deranged secret spy for a psychopath). 'Well...I guess since these...Horcruxes are pieces of Voldemort's- sorry, You Know Who's-' I quickly corrected myself upon seeing everyone but Harry and Dumbledore flinch at the name, '-soul, then he wouldn't very well just stick it in a- in a plastic bag or something would he? I mean, it's his soul, you know? He'd probably put it in somewhere that would mean a lot to him...that has a lot of history...' I trailed off, not knowing what to say next. I sounded like a complete idiot.

Most of the people at the table were shooting me strange looks now, and that was when I remembered that I wasn't even supposed to know this stuff, and I facepalmed mentally. Nice.

'Exactly, Miss de Lioncourt, exactly.' Dumbledore didn't seem to mind my pitiful explanation, though, eyes twinkling (seriously, how does he do that?) from the head of the table. 'That is indeed correct. And I am pleased to say that I have more or less identified the objects that Voldemort is using. Do you remember Riddle's diary, in your second year, Harry?'

'Yeah, I do.' Harry's lips were pressed together in a thin line, and I noticed his eyes had darkened considerably at the memory. 'Wait- that was a Horcrux?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Among others.' He began to list them, ticking a finger off as he called out the name of each one. 'The diary, the heirloom cup of Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, Marvolo Gaunt's ring- which I am currently wearing- Nagini, Voldemort's snake and, lastly, Slytherin's locket. I myself have already destroyed one,' here Dumbledore lifted up the hand with the Resurrection Stone, and I heard Hermione gasp, '- and you, Harry, have destroyed another. However, as of now, it is no longer my goal to find and destroy- but rather, to save from destruction.'

Save from destruction?

'The last Horcrux that I mentioned, Slytherin's locket, played a significant part in Tom Riddle's later life in Hogwarts. Having procured it from a very old and very rich benefactor- who was quite a fan of Tom- named Hepzibah Smith during a house-call appointment at his part time job at Borgin & Burkes-'

'You Know Who worked at Borgin and Burkes?' Ron said, dumbfounded.

'- he resolved to unlock its secrets in its entirety- after all, it was, by all rights, his.

'And so, he discovered the truth about the locket and its twin.'

My head snapped up. 'There was a second one?'

Dumbledore looked at me, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if he was conducting an X-ray on the spot. 'Yes, Ari, there was indeed a second, and at a certain time during his penultimate year at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle had managed to acquire both.'

'Well, do you know where it is now, Professor?' Hermione asked, eyebrows drawing together as the wheels in her head spun at a manic rate, while I still struggled to process this new information. This... is so not canon...

The old wizard sighed heavily. 'I am afraid I do not, Miss Granger, as the second locket disappeared from existence over half a century ago.

You see, back in the days of the Founders, when the school was relatively new, there had been much speculation about the relationship between Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw- certainly, he admired her for her wits and integrity, and she for his brilliant mind and cunning- but as to whether their association delved beyond the reaches of friendship was somewhat of a mystery to those who did not have, ah, certain privileges, shall we put it, that a Headmaster would .'

I suppressed a snigger at the thought of Dumbledore snooping around the school. I didn't fully succeed and Dumbledore caught my eye sheepishly at the head of the table.

'So...they were together?' Ron asked, his ears turning pink for some inexplicable reason, his eyes darting to where Hermione was sitting.

'Yes, they indeed were. And they were, as I recall, very much in love.

'Although, as Founders, they were responsible for the welfare of the school, and as you can imagine, this took up quite a large portion of their time. So much so that Slytherin created the twin lockets.

'The first locket, which he gave to Ravenclaw, was designed for the user to influence and bend time to their choosing, similar to these days' Time-Turners- you recall, Miss Granger- but infinitely more powerful. The locket, you see, did not merely transport the user to another time, but allowed them to manipulate it, to slow it down or speed it up, while they themselves remained unchanged- Slytherin created it so that he and Ravenclaw had more time for each other during the day.'

'And the second locket, sir?' Harry asked.

'Ah, yes. The second locket- which Slytherin kept for himself- had a very...different magic. I'm unsure as to whether he created it for Ravenclaw, perhaps, or simply for his own personal gain, it is hard to tell, but I do know that it is probably one of the most dangerous items to ever be created in magical history.' He paused. 'Not coincidentally, this is the locket that Voldemort currently holds in his possession.'

'Bloody brilliant,' muttered Ron under his breath.

'What does it do, Professor?' Harry asked to my left, ignoring him.

Dumbledore, folded his long, thin fingers delicately on the table, an almost languid gesture.

'It reflects one's desires,' he said simply, looking around at all of us in the room.

There was a pause as everyone took a moment to absorb this unexpected piece of information, particularly me. Reflect one's desires? What, like the-

'Like the Mirror of Erised, sir?' Hermione asked almost eagerly, leaning forward.

'Mm...in a way, yes. It does display what the heart most truly wants, beyond our comprehension, but Slytherin also designed it to give him certain...advantages.

'It allowed the user to manipulate them as well.'

888

'As I have mentioned before, Voldemort's numbers have been increasing, as of late, and this normally wouldn't be of any new knowledge to myself, had I not noticed exactly what sort of people he had been recruiting.' Dumbledore listed the names, never taking his sapphire eyes of our captivated faces. 'The Bones', the Patils, the Boots- you may recognize these as the names of some of your Hogwarts classmates- the Macmillans, the Browns, the Bells. The list goes on.

'All of these families are deeply rooted in wizarding genealogy- in other words, they are considered to be 'purebloods', a typical reference. But what makes this quite strange, however, is the fact that none of these names have ever been associated with the Dark Arts before- and furthermore, they are not inclined to.'

'Well, couldn't they have been Imperiused or something?' Ron blurted out, his face screwed up with worry. 'I mean, it's happened before, hasn't it?'

"Yes, that is possible, but I believe that this is something much darker than the Imperius Curse, Mr Weasley .

'Do you recall a certain Knight Bus assistant, a Mr Shunpike?'

'Stan,' murmured Harry quietly next to me, and I remembered the name.

'He is currently wanted by the Ministry for being a Death Eater.' Dumbledore continued, and the result was like a bomb fell on the place.

'What?' Harry exploded, slamming his hands down on the table amidst the other indignant roars. 'Are they serious?'

'Wait, is he that bloke from the Quidditch World Cup, the guy who was going on about being the next Minister?' Ron asked from the other side of Harry, a slight look of puzzlement making its way across his freckly features. 'Him?'

'Yeah, him! What do they think they're doing? Harry said angrily, half-rising from his chair. 'Didn't they hear him at the World Cup? He was probably just trying to impress someone again; you don't take blokes like him seriously!'

Dumbledore watched us with a somber expression on his usually light face. 'I see you agree with my earlier thoughts on this subject. That is, until I learned from Kingsley that Mr Shunpike was actually found performing the Cruciatus Curse on a young Muggle couple- who later had to be Obliviated- at the time of his arrest.'

Everything seemed to freeze at his words. 'I don't believe it,' Harry said at last, breaking the sudden spell over the room. 'I talked to Stan, he didn't seem evil then!'

'I know, Harry. Believe me, I do. Which is why, instead of being sent to Azkaban, Mr Shunpike is currently residing in St Mungo's, under the Order's protection and completely untouchable to the Ministry.' At this, Dumbledore's tired face broke out into a small, rather satisfied smile. 'As I've always said, I do have quite excellent contacts.

'However, while in custody of the ward, there had been certain...reports about Mr Shunpike's behaviour, and strange ones at that. For instance, that he refuses to sleep, refuses to eat…does not respond to the Healers when spoken to…and has been found numeroud times mutilating his own skin, repeatedly muttering the words kill me, my bus, mine, kill Ernie, kill me…"

'...That's terrible,' whispered Hermione, her face an ashen grey. 'And...Voldemort's locket did this?'

'Voldemort did this Miss Granger,' Dumbledore corrected her quietly. 'The locket is only a tool that he employs in order to get what he wants. It reflects your dreams, your hopes, your wants and twists it, deforms it in such a way that we are only left with the very bones of desire, of need, and we lose sight completely of what is most near and dear to our hearts... reduced to mere shadows of our former selves. How else would Voldemort have managed to get the giants, the centaurs—who are one of the most distrustful and sovereign creatures known to Wizarding kind—to side with him?'

'Was that what Slytherin intended, sir, when he made it?' Hermione asked, shocked.

'I do not think so. To be sure, he imbued it with powerful magic, his own, and gave the object numerous possibilities should its secrets ever be unlocked...but I believe it was not for this purpose that he designed it.

'The magic of the locket is utterly dependent on its owner's intentions, Miss Granger. This is all Voldemort's doing, and it is best to remember that.' He said this not as a reprimand, but as a gentle reminder of the truth, though I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered a little on me as he said this. Not to mention the over-emphasis of Voldemort's name.

'When did you find this out, sir?' Harry spoke up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he leaned forward. 'I mean, about the lockets?'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Less than a month ago. I had been suspecting something odd about that Horcrux for quite some time, particularly after the incident with Mr Shunpike, but it was only until recently that my suspicions had been confirmed.'

He brought out a long light sienna wand from his pocket and, with a casual flick, produced two scraps of ragged yellow paper-parchment, sorry- one seemingly older and more worn out than the other, from thin air, which then fluttered gracefully into his open palm. I watched all of this with wonder and felt a rising excitement bubble up in the pit of my stomach. Magic...

Dumbledore held them delicately, carefully holding it as if the parchment would disintegrate at any moment. 'A few weeks ago, I journeyed into a certain cave that Tom Riddle had visited quite a number of times in his early childhood, after spending quite some time tracing the second locket- also his horcrux- to that area.

'With the aid of a certain Potions professor-' here I saw Malfoy, who had been silent for most of the discussion, inhale sharply. '-I managed to get through the...ah, obstacles that Voldemort had placed to guard his horcrux, without any permanent damage, and retrieved this,' Dumbledore held up his other hand, the burned one, up and I saw something small and gold glitter faintly, dangling off the end of a thin, tarnished chain. I cocked my head to one side. That wasn't Slytherin's locket...

'Is that it, Professor?' Ron asked eagerly, his blue eyes shining with excitement. 'Is that the second locket?'

'No,' Dumbledore said, and Ron's face fell. 'This is merely a decoy- and it is apparent from the note inside it that the person had failed to discover the true locket. I shall read it out to you now,' he said, and, looking at the smaller piece of parchment, began.

'To whoever finds this,

I write in haste, so I offer you the extent of my knowledge about the item which you seek: it is not solely a Horcrux. Rather, something far more terrible.

I do not know where the true Horcrux lies, but I know that the Dark Lord has deceived me yet again, and already I feel life's energy draining from my body as I write this.

I leave this note, and its attachment, to whoever seeks it, in hopes that they will aid the Dark Lord's equal in his triumph, and that the He Who Must Not Be Named will be rendered mortal once more.

R.A.B.'

'RAB...' Hermione mused, absentmindedly chewing her thumbnail as she did so. 'Who's RAB?'

'When I touched the locket for the first time Miss Granger, I knew it had been false,' Dumbledore said softly, laying aside the parchment. 'And it was only further proved by the sudden mist that revealed the skeleton of RAB- or should I say Regulus Arcturus Black-' here Hermione gasped and Harry stiffened immeasurably beside me while Malfoy narrowed his steely eyes,'- at my feet, along with hundreds of others- most likely previous victims of Lord Voldemort.'

'Sirius' brother?' Hermione asked the wizard, honey brown eyes wide, like coins, and one hand partially raised to her lips, as if to cover her mouth in horror.

Dumbledore only nodded, carefully watching Harry, whose lips had tugged down into a small frown as he thought about this unexpected information. 'Yes. After finding the notes, and battling my way through more...obstacles that had been triggered upon the touching the locket, I managed to escape the cave upon which I then promptly Disapparated back to Hogwarts.

'However, my little trip wasn't entirely fruitless. My suspicions had been confirmed, by the other note found with RAB's letter.'

'What was it, Professor?' Harry asked the man quietly.

'The diary page of none other than Salazar Slytherin himself,' Dumbledore replied, and I heard Hermione's stifled gasp, 'which confirmed my fears.'

'Since Slytherin's writing had always been rather cramped, I will not read out the entire passage to you; this page should become readily available to you in the near future. However I will read out this, rather illuminating excerpt:

...have been forced to leave Hogwarts, banished from my own home by the man whom I had once- yes, once- called 'friend'.

I hold a dream, a dream that I know the others-not even Rowena, could possibly comprehend, but it has been eating at me, driving me mad with its ringing truth and shocking possibilities, that I begin to realize: I cannot ignore it any further. It has changed me, so much so that the reflection in the locket has changed also...

Hogwarts is my home, but I will not continue to live here as long as its magnificent halls of stone are soiled by the unworthy. Even if it means leaving her.

Since my duel with Godric, one which shook the very foundations of the castle, she has refused to speak to me. I do not pretend to wonder why. She has seen the true me, my true mind, and was repulsed by it. Did she really think I was to live in the steel container that served as my facade forever? No.

If we must part so that I may bring my ideals into reality, then so be it. Fate has decided.

I will go, but the locket I had created shall remain.

This, of course, is not due to sentimental stupidity commonly felt, but because of the consequences that should befall all of us should I part the pair.

The two are not meant to be used apart, bound by the most powerful chains of magic as they are, and even I do not wish to know what would occur, should it happen.

Their magic is too strong, too connected with each other and the world, too unstable.

I will not ask Rowena to relinquish hers, but I will leave my own in the only uncontaminated place left in the castle, the legacy I have left behind, unbeknownst to the other Founders.

And there it will lie forever.'

Dumbledore finished reading and he looked up, greeted by tense silence.

Everyone seemed to be preoccupied in their own thoughts, including me.

This was becoming far too complicated for my liking. I didn't even have a clue why I was here; why did I need to know this? This world wasn't mine.

'Professor...' Harry spoke up slowly, the crease between his raven brows becoming deeper, 'when Slytherin wrote the only uncontaminated place left in the castle... was he talking about the Chamber of Secrets?'

Dumbledore inclined his head in the younger wizard's direction, and I witnessed Malfoy stiffen suddenly. 'Yes, indeed he was. But he made one fatal mistake, however, and that was to believe that he was the only one who would know about the Chamber.'

'Riddle,' Harry hissed quietly beside me, and I flinched a little.

'Tom Riddle discovered it in his fifth year at Hogwarts, as you already know, unleashing the Basilisk within on those he deemed, similar to Slytherin, were 'unworthy'.

'He continued to return to the Chamber frequently, in an effort to plumb its many secrets, and it was at the end of his fifth year, I believe, that he discovered Slytherin's locket inside.'

'And the locket that he took from Hepzibah Smith?' Harry asked.

'Was Ravenclaw's, and he procured this one during his summer before his sixth year.'

'But…she must've taken it away from Hogwarts, away from Slytherin's locket? What about the 'consequences' that Slytherin mentioned in his diary?'

Dumbledore steepled his hands on the table again. 'Ah, yes, that was what I wondered too, when I first found it. But I observed Slytherin used the phrase 'cannot be used apart' when he was writing about them, so I assume that if one were simply to have it in their possession, they will remain relatively unharmed.

'I believe that Ravenclaw most likely returned the locket back to Slytherin's descendants, when she could no longer bear its presence. Or, perhaps, asked someone else to do so.

'But never mind about that. The rest of the details concerning the location of the locket begin to become a little hazy after that, but what I do understand, however, is that it landed in the hands of Tom Riddle just before his sixth year.

'The year I hope to send you back to.'

My blood chilled at that last sentence for some inexplicable reason, and I felt shivers, like little fingers, running over my spine.

I'd forgotten about that request, so enraptured was I in this new world and story I had been introduced to. I'd forgotten that I wasn't even supposed to be here, like I was just listening to a dramatic reading of JK's book, and I lost myself in the storyline of intrigue, magic and danger.

But here, there was one difference.

Here, the danger was real.

'Why, sir?'

Malfoy, who had remained silent for the majority of the time spent in the room spoke up. "Why now?"

Dumbledore grew eerily silent, and a sudden tension erupted throughout the dining room; this was what we had been waiting for.

Wordlessly, the wizard raised his light hazel wand once more and swept it above him, drawing a wide arc in the air.

I watched wide eyed as the path following his wand turned into a blazing trail of crimson fire, crackling and leaping as it twisted , and so bright that it stung my eyes just to look at it.

Seemingly of their own accord, the flames spiraled downwards, coiling like a fiery rope around itself, and, as my eyes began to adjust to the light, forming a shape—an hourglass?

It was about three feet long, made of scarlet fire, and in the center, what seemed to be a thick, black substance—tar?—coiling and morphing inside, and dribbling densely into the second half of the glass.

It was the ugliest, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The hourglass hovered above us, in the center of the ebony table, its vivid vermilion flames casting an eerie red light over everyone in the room and giving the terrifying illusion of being bathed in blood.

"Because we are running out of time, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore replied, the only one of us unaffected. "The world is running out of time."

888

Colorless, spider-like hands stroked viridian scales, and a low, drawn out hiss echoed throughout the dark, frigid chamber as the gleaming silver hourglass hung in front of him, suspended in the air.

He could taste it; taste the scent of death.

"Soon…"

888

Dumbledore stood silent for a while in front of us.

"This hourglass," he said finally, "is something I created after I discovered the journal page of Slytherin. I surmised that since the two objects could not operate without the other's presence, that they drew the source of their magical energy from each other. But, if they were to be used as Voldemort is using them now… and seemingly without the other's presence as I am quite sure Ravenclaw's locket is not with him…then I assume they would draw upon the user's own magical energy. Voldemort's energy."

He gestured towards the misshapen, distorted form in the center of the room. "I understand that it is supposed to sap your power almost instantly once you begin to use it… for Voldemort to have held out this long…is something quite considerable…

'I believe that it will have no effect upon the user of course, perhaps extensive fatigue, otherwise Tom, who is quite aware of this, would have refused to have used it—he values his life far too much. Or at least he is quite confident in his abilities to overcome the locket's power.

Instead, the locket, desperate to ensure its continued existence, will begin to draw upon the magical sources of all those it has been used upon—Muggle, wizard, human, or no.

And it will drain them fully, this time, and kill them."

Oh God.

" But sir! V-Voldemort—he—how many..?"

"More than you will ever be aware of, Miss Granger. It will be the largest mass murder in both Wizarding and Muggle history."

Ron and Hermione looked sick, Harry, a strange mixture of distress and lividity, and even Malfoy had become a few shades paler.

"And the hourglass, sir?" I whispered past the thick, bitter taste of fear that lay on my tongue.

"It is but an estimate, based on the magical ability of a wizard, and his stamina. In this case, Voldemort's. How long he can continue to support the locket with his energy… before he runs out."

I found my eyes drawn to the top half of the hour glass, where the remaining black sludge was trickling thickly into the bottom container. There didn't seem to be much left… more than half of it seemed to be in the glass below…

Clearly everyone in the room was thinking along the same lines as I was; their gazes were fixed with a sort of perverse fascination at the object.

"How much longer?"

Harry voiced the question that we had all been dreading, had been too fearful to ask, the one that was lay on the tip of our tongues.

Dumbledore surveyed all of us, and this time I really did flinch; his vivid azure stare, tainted black by the red glow of the hourglass, conveyed a man haunted and tortured by himself, by his own memories.

"Until June the 16th, next year."

A pregnant silence hovered over each and every one of the people in the room. Part relief—there was still time—part terror—was it enough, though?—and part desperation began to wage war inside us.

Less than ten months to go…

"To stop this from happening, we need the locket's counterpart. We need the first locket. And this is why I am asking—I am begging—you to agree to this incredibly unjust, unfair and undeserved task that I am asking you to complete. To go back to 1944, when Tom Riddle first found Ravenclaw's locket, and bring it back to 1997."

"Why did you just tell us this now?" Malfoy asked suddenly, his normally cold voice low and husky. "Why not years ago, when..?"

When we still had time?

"Because we needed Ari," Dumbledore said, and my head snapped up so fast I heard a slight crack at the back of my neck.

"What?" What?

Dumbledore sighed, and flicked his wand at the hourglass, and it faded away so that the room was no longer washed in red stain.

"Yes," he said gravely. "You, Ari."

Everyone's eyes were on me, and I felt myself grow tense—they were all staring…

"What?"

My mind was spinning, and his words seemed to reach me in jagged syllables as I tried to battle through my confusion. Me? Me?

"When I met you for the very first time and then, later, when you told me who you were, I understood. I understood why you needed to be there, even if you didn't, at the time. And I understood that this mission, this task I am entrusting all of you with— you need to be a part of it. Believe me."

My self-esteem hitched up a couple of notches, but my utter bewilderment remained. To complete an impossible, a Herculean task...

"Sir…" I wanted to say 'no', I really did. But when I caught Harry's concerned and troubled stare, and the desperate ones of the others, I felt my determination give a little, and it came out more like, "…are you sure?"

Dumbledore's eyes turned immeasurably gentle. "My dear, I have never been so certain of anything in my entire life."

Raising his voice so that everyone could hear it, he said, "Everyone, I do not expect you to agree with me on attempting this mission. But… think of it as a second chance. A clean slate." I saw Malfoy's head raise itself at his words, and I felt my resolve disintegrate completely altogether. "For everyone."

I looked down at my lap, my heart beating a violent tattoo against my ribs.

A second chance…a second chance … a second chance …

What did I have to lose that I haven't already?

A second chance…a second chance … a second chance …

"Alright." I said, already knowing I'd regret it. "I'll do it."

A clean slate.

A/N: Thanks, all.