Chapter 13

Bella's POV

The rest of the break was quiet. I didn't see much of Lupin the next few days. Come to think of it, I didn't see much of anyone. I kept to myself.

I felt guilty for yelling at Lupin, even though he needed it.

On the last day of the break, I did see Lupin. We—the Cullens, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and me—were packing. I was almost done. It was irking me. I didn't have much patience for it, so…

"Pack!" I ordered flicking my wand at the suitcase, like Tonks had done for me in my Fifth Year. All the contents straightened out, any things I'd forgotten flying into it.

"Hm," I murmured to myself. "Easier than I thought. Even the socks are folded."

I heard an impressed whistle from the open door. "That's good for your first time."

I turned to see Tonks in the doorway. "Hey, Tonks."

She smiled and winked. "Wotcher, Bella."

"What's up?" I asked, curious.

"Remus wanted to talk to you, if you're done packing, that is."

My eyebrows were raised, but I replied, "Sure. Where is he?"

"The yard."

I nodded. "Thank you, Tonks. See ya."

As I headed out to the Weasleys' yard, I wondered. Was he angry with me for yelling at him? I hope not.

"Done packing already?" he asked when he saw me.

Shrugging, I told him, "Used that spell Tonks showed me two years ago." I paused, then said, "Sorry for yelling at you, Remus. I just …exploded."

He chuckled. "It's okay, I needed it."

"Either way, sorry."

"So the Minister heard you, too?"

"Just had to bring that up, didn't you?"

"Of course….Do you really think that lycanthropy isn't genetic?"

I looked at him. "What do you think?"

Lupin smiled as her replied, "I think that I should have just asked you or Hermione in the first place. But…I'm still worried. What if it affects them? They might not be full werewolf…but…"

"Lupin!" I warned.

He sighed. "I just couldn't live with myself if I knowingly passed my condition onto innocent children."

"Lupin, they won't hate you. Get that thought out of your head. Okay?" I said.

He nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Weasley called, "Are you all ready? You'll be Flooing in a moment! Hurry up!"

"I guess you need to go." He said.

"Yeah. See you guys at Easter?"

"Of course."

So, at that, the Cullens, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and I Flooed back to Hogwarts. We had just returned and were all resting in the Common Room. That is, except Hermione. She had decided to go to the library to get a book for 'light before bed reading'. Knowing her, she'd probably get a dictionary. Oi.

Almost as soon as I had the thought, Hermione came bustling in through the door.

"Bella! Harry! Dumbledore wanted me to give you two this," she said, handing me a scroll with Harry's and my names of it in the Headmaster's hand writing.

"We've got a lesson with him tomorrow night!" Harry exclaimed, looking at the scroll.

Lessons the next day rushed past, and I found myself almost buried in homework already, with our N.E.W.T.s coming up. The Cullens were helping the rest of us, tutoring us whenever needed. I really appreciated it. The others did too. Well, Hermione was also tutoring. Naturally. Even though she was thrice as nervous as the rest of us.

After Dumbledore, Harry, and I exited the last memory for the night, I practically collapsed into a chair, shocked at what I'd just seen.

Tom Riddle had murdered his father and paternal grandparents. Framed his maternal uncle for it. Stolen his ring…and then…and then…

Horcruxes.

The ominous word echoed in my mind, like a horrendous mantra you couldn't get out of your head.

Horcruxes…Horcruxes…Horcruxes…Horcruxes…

My previous D.A.D.A. teacher's words echoed in my mind…(A/N: Horace Slughorn came out of retirement for one year, their sixth year, to teach D.A.D.A. Mainly, he was tempted to get to know the 'Chosen Ones'. He chose not to teach this year, for fear of Voldemort, but promised to be back in a year or two…after Voldemort's been defeated. ;) )

"A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of his soul…" Slughorn had said, unwittingly playing right into Riddle's hands.

"…Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged…"

"…That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed…"

And then there were the even more disturbing words of the future Darkest Wizard of our Time…

"Can you only spilt your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerful magical number, wouldn't seven—?"

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" Slughorn had yelped. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it in seven pieces…"

None of us spoke for the longest time as we sat there, absorbing what we'd seen, until…

"Seven…" I murmured. I had always known Voldemort was evil, but to split his soul?

Suddenly, words from my and Harry's second year floated through my mind.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry had asked.

"A memory. Preserved in a diary for fifty years…"

I gasped aloud. "The diary!"

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Precisely. One of Voldemort's seven. The one that you two destroyed."

All the portraits were in their frames, listening attentively.

"You two gave me the evidence of my theory. You handed it to me, in this very office. A Horcrux. Already destroyed. And in your fifth year, when you two were suddenly swept into the graveyard. 'I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality'. That was what you two later told me he'd said. 'Further than anybody…' I realized, even though not even his Death Eaters understood his meaning…I knew what he was alluding to: his Horcruxes, plural."

"Seven, correct?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I am not sure if he has yet, but that is his goal. But…ah yes. Seven. 'Isn't seven the most powerfully magical number?' Voldemort asked."

"I'm noticing a pattern," I muttered. Harry looked at me strangely. "Think about it. Seven Horcruxes. The age of seven, at which most wizards or witches' magical abilities show themselves. Seven years at Hogwarts. Seven Quidditch players on a team. In the Wizarding world, people are of age at seventeen. Hm, there are seven Cullens. Seven Weasley children. And then…the number of times we've survived him or his Death Eaters attacking: Godric's Hollow as infants, our First Year, Second Year in the Chamber, the graveyard in our Fiourth Year, the Department of Mysteries…so, if the patterns continue, there would be two more times. Great…" I groaned. I added, "Don't tell Trelawney I'm predicting that. She'd check and only see the Grim." I rolled my eyes. Thank God I dropped that class.

Dumbledore and Harry chuckled.

"Technically," Dumbledore corrected, "there are only six Horcruxes. The last is in his body. You two have destroyed one: the diary. Meanwhile, I have been busy. Marvolo Gaunt's ring—" He held up his hand and I realized the ring he'd been wearing recently was cracked down the middle and had been the one in the memory. "—was hidden in the Gaunt Shack.

"Next was Helga Hufflepuff's cup. You gave that to me yourself, Bella."

"I did?" I asked. Then I realized it. "Oh! From Gringott's when I first came! It had been hidden in my parents' vault!"

"Correct," Dumbledore said. "After examining it, I discovered it, too, was a Horcrux. I destroyed it with Gryffindor's Sword, which has imbibed Basilisk venom.

"Then there is Nagini. And, I believe I know the location of another, but as for the other two…" he trailed off, looking a bit guilty. "…you will learn about in time."

"So that's where you've been disappearing too recently. Scrimgeour was bugging us to tell him what you'd been telling us, during Christmas break." Harry said.

"Ah, so Rufus did come to see you two. I thought so. What was it he spoke to you about, other than me?"

"He wanted us to fake working with the Ministry. Basically telling everyone that the Ministry is doing a wonderful job." I said, snorting at the end.

"That was Fudge's idea, originally. During his last few days in office, he sought to speak with you two, trying to cling to his post, hoping you'd support him."

"After everything he did in our fifth year?" Harry exclaimed. "After Umbridge?"

"I told him there was no chance. The Daily Prophet caught wind of it when we were disagreeing."

"So they do report the truth once in a while." I muttered. "Interesting. Mostly it's after Rita Skeeter's sudden…resignation." I smirked as I said the last word. She was an unregistered Animagus. She could turn into a fat, ugly beetle. Impressive. Not. Hermione had caught her and stuffed her into an unbreakable glass jar. That was good revenge.

"Have you heard anything about her?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Nope." I said, smiling. "Well…She was really an unregistered Animagus, and when we found out she kinda…ran away. Yeah, we'll go with that."

"Anyways, what else did Rufus say?" Dumbledore asked, after chuckling.

"He accused us of being 'Dumbledore's men through and through'." Harry said.

"How very rude of him."

"We told him we were." I said.

Dumbledore's mouth opened, as if he wanted to speak, but he closed it again. Behind him, Fawkes the Phoenix let out a soft, low, musical cry.

To my embarrassment, I realized Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were watery. I hastily looked away, my face red. Harry was doing the same.

"I am very touched."

"He also wanted to know where you went." Harry said, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, he is very nosy about that," Dumbledore said, cheerfully. "Now, I believe you two have homework to do. I think I've kept you, but before you leave, I must ask, if the two of you had never heard the prophecy, how would you feel about Voldemort, now?"

I thought of my parents, Harry's parents, Cedric Diggory, and of all the people who are dead because of him. All the families who had been torn apart. A flame was in my chest, burning with hatred.

"I'd want him finished." Harry said. "And I would want to do it."

"As would I." I said, still unable to get my mind away from all the headlines of the Daily Prophet about the casualties inflicted by Voldemort.

"I thought as much. The prophecy does not mean you have to do anything. But it caused Voldemort to mark you as his equals…but you are free to choose. Yet Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will never stop hunting you two, making it certain—"

"That either we will die at his hands, or that he will die at our hands," I finished. "Damn prophecy." I muttered. "Excuse my language, professor, sir."

He nodded. "I will. Exactly what I meant. He sparked the flames that will drive the two of you to fulfill the prophecy."

"So," I said, thinking. "It's kinda the difference between being dragged into an area to face a battle to the death, or walking in with your head held high." He nodded again.

"I know my choice." I said. "It's an easy decision. The same as James and Lily Potters' decision."

It was a no-brainer. Simple as one, two, three. It was an obvious answer. The one in which I could keep my dignity and pride:

Walking in with my head held high.