Chapter 13

"Harry! I got a letter from my parents!" Draco said as he rushed towards the boy.

"A letter?"

"Yeah… and look," Draco pulled out a letter and gave it to Harry. "It's two pieces sealed together. You can barely see the seam."

"Huh… I wonder," Harry said. He picked at the seam with his fingertip for a while before making a small noise when he was able to separate them. "It's another letter!" he said. Harry looked around the corridor they were in and was thankful that it was empty. "It's from Voldemort," he said he completely separated them.

A dark feeling rose in Draco's stomach. "What does it say?" he asked.

Harry looked at his boyfriend before reading the letter.

Potter,

If what you say is true, completely true, then I have a task for you. A trial to see how committed to the Dark Arts you truly are. Simply tell me this: How am I Immortal?

Answer that question, and I will believe what you have written.

"He didn't sign it but… it's from him," Harry said. "I could feel it."

"What does he mean? Immortal?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed. "He can't possibly mean…"

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "I need to look at my books again." He looked up at Draco almost apologetically, and said, "I'm sorry Draco, but I don't think we'll get this done by Christmas. I need to research this, and I can only do this when the others aren't around."

"What books do you have?" Draco asked. "I can help."

"They're not going to leave the dormitory, Draco, they barely even leave the trunk," Harry said.

"Then sneak me in and I'll help," Draco insisted.

"No, no thanks," Harry said. He bit his lip lightly and shook his head. "It'll be easier if it's just me. I'll keep you updated, I promise."

"Are you sure?" Draco pressed. "Harry, I want to help you."

"I'm sure Draco… thank you," Harry said. He looked at Draco for a moment before standing on his toes, kissing the Slytherin lightly before stepping away. "I better get started. I'll talk with you later, bye."

Harry turned and left quickly, the letter scrunched in his hands. His steps echoed against the empty corridors as he turned towards the Grand Staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, Harry quickly made his way to the seventh floor and in front of the Fat Lady. He all but barked the password to her and ran into the portrait hole, ignoring everybody who waved hello to him as he raced to his dormitory. It was empty thankfully, and the boy quickly knelt in front of his trunk. Opening it, he moved all of his clothes to one side until an empty space was left. At the empty space, he poked his wand and a small clicking sound, like a latch unlocking, filled the room. With his wand still on the bottom of the trunk, Harry opened the secret compartment and pulled out several books whose pages were all yellow, worn-out and leaf-eared. Harry placed the books to his side, closed the compartment, pushed all of his clothes onto the secret latch and closed his trunk, locking it. He took the books and placed them on his bed. Closing the curtains, he muttered a privacy charm as well as the Muffliato Charm.

Content that he was truly and utterly alone, Harry picked up the first book in the small stack of dark arts texts and started to read.

.

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry and Jamie went past, which caused blockages in the corridor; fortunately, however, the twins' frequent nighttime wanderings had given them an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that they were able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Harry had developed large bags under his eyes around this time thanks to the nighttime reading that he has done every night since that letter has arrived. He had read each of his texts three times at least and still felt no closer to the solution of Voldemort's question. Jamie noticed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he demanded.

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms next morning (Quintessence: A Quest).

"Harry, I asked you a question," Jamie said again. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Busy."

"That's not an answer!"

"It is, shut it," Harry said. His lack of sleep caused the boy to become extremely groggy and irritable, which only increased with each fail attempt to answer Voldemort's task.

"Harry!" Jamie yelled.

"What!" Harry yelled back. Hermione and Ron just looked at each other but said nothing. "I'm busy," Harry said again. "Leave me alone."

"Harry Fleamont—"

"Shut it." Harry growled. He slammed the book shut and stomped out of the library, cursing to himself under his breath. Jamie turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom looked bashful.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked.

"Who knows," Jamie shrugged.

"Whatever it is… he needs to be careful," Hermione said. "Both of you do."

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Jamie shrugged.

"I'm not talking about his attitude, I'm talking about earlier. "I went into the bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you and Harry a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have brought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work—"

"Then why didn't you confiscate them!?" Jamie demanded. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

"They didn't have the potion with them in the bathroom," Hermione said scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt even The Half-Blood Prince could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you—and tell Harry the same—that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"But… I'm going with Blaise," Jamie said, ignoring Hermione's rightful scorn.

"Then tell Harry," Hermione said grimly. "And just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business."

She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Arithmancy essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Jamie watched her with his mind a long way away.

"Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything brought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

Ron snorted. "When does anyone pay attention to that geezer? Besides, Fred and George sends them disguised as perfumes and cough potions. It's part of their Owl Order Service."

Jamie and Hermione turned to stare at Ron. The redhead shrugged and said, "It was on the back of some boxes."

"I see…" Hermione said. Her words sparked the end of the conversation as the three looked at each other for a moment before standing to leave.

"Baubles," Jamie said to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.

"Same to you," the Fat Lady said with a roguish grin, and she swung forward to admit them.

"Jamie!" Romilda Vane called out the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Your brother is a monster!" Her face was red and tear stricken. "I just asked if he wanted some gillywater and he lashed out at me!"

"Huh," Jamie said, eyeing the girl in front of him. Hermione was giving him a "what-did-I-tell-you" look.

"Yeah! So here! I wanted to give them to him, but you can have them instead," she thrust a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them. Maybe you can share one with your brother one he learns some manners."

"Sure…I'm just going to go over here with them…" Jamie said. He hurried off behind Hermione and Ron, his voice tailing away feebly.

"Told you," Hermione said succinctly. "Sorry to say but I don't think they'll ever learn."

"Well anyway… I'm going to go check on Harry… and throw this out," Jamie indicated to the box. He walked up to the dormitory, which was at first glance empty. Harry's bed had its curtains drawn but Jamie couldn't hear anything from it. He walked towards Harry's bed and said, "Harry? You in there?"

Silence.

"Harry! Open up." Jamie said. He heard a small buzzing noise in his ears and groaned in frustration. "Look, I know you can hear me so just open up will you? At least sleep in my bed so I know you're bloody sleeping!"

Harry still hasn't responded. Jamie made a very irritated noise and said, "At least listen to me will you? Some of the girls are being crazy and try to slip us some love potions. Slughorn's party? It's tomorrow and they're getting desperate. So just be careful for what you're eating or drinking until the party's over, all right?"

Harry still hasn't answered. Jamie waited, his arms crossed as he tapped his foot impatiently. The buzzing noise stops and Harry poked his head out of the curtains and looked at Jamie. "How can a person become immortal?" he asked.

"What?"

"How can a person become immortal?" Harry repeated again. "That's what Voldemort's done, and that's what Dumbledore is trying to find out."

"I…how the hell should I know," Jamie said.

"Useless," Harry sighed. He closed the curtain and Jamie heard the buzzing again.

"Harry! Open up!" Jamie yelling in frustration. He grabbed the curtains and pulled as hard as he could, but the curtain wouldn't budge an inch. "Damn idiot!" Jamie yelled. "Get out!"

"I'm busy!"

"Like hell you are! What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?" Jamie yelled.

"I told you, I'm busy! Go to bed!"

"Not without you."

"Then have fun staying up all night," Harry said. Jamie glared at the bed and sat down on his own. His arms crossed, his gaze did not leave Harry's bed, watching ever so vigilantly as the curtains stood unnaturally still. The others came in and looked at Jamie in a confused manner before shrugging it off, the Potters are just having a fight. Soon the room was filled with boys dressed in pajamas laying in their beds. The sounds of various snores (Ron's being the loudest) filled the air but still Jamie stared at Harry's bed curtains, which still stayed still as if frozen in time. His eyes began to grow heavy, the soothing unison of snores filling Jamie's brain as he continued to stare. Jamie stifled a yawn, but soon his head began to nod once… twice… he shook himself awake. But still the snores filled his mind and without warning the giant Potter fell onto his bed, asleep.

His snore joined the sleeping choir of his roommates and Harry slipped out of his bed. "Finally," he whispered. Harry made his way to his trunk and silently placed his Dark Arts books in the hidden compartment before moving to his brother's. Opening it, he pushed past Jamie's clothes and textbooks in order to pull out the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map. He threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and sneaked out of the dormitory and Gryffindor common room.

Harry opened the Marauder's Map and whispered its incantation. He studied the map, making sure to know where Peeves, Filch, and Mrs. Norris were. They weren't in his way, so Harry began to move, his eyes shifting every now and then as he snuck down towards the library. Harry kept his eyes on the Marauder's Map as he moved, taking alternative corridors and turns as Filch or Mrs. Norris walk towards the corridor he was in. In the end, Harry took a long and convoluted route in order to reach the library, but once he did there was no signs of Filch, his cat, or Peeves. The portraits of famous wizard authors and past Hogwarts librarians were all sleeping in their frames. Harry ignored them and all of the bookshelves he past as he made his way towards the restricted area of the library.

The restricted section of the library was dimly lit, the books all stood on their old wooden shelves and every one had a sense of dread oozing from them. Harry walked past them, ignoring the books that are chained, locked, or restrained in anyway. Through his readings of the Dark Arts books he owned, Harry noticed several footnotes that all referred to the same author and book. He had no idea how he had never noticed it before, but then he had to remind himself that nobody every reads footnotes unless it was absolutely necessary. "Secrets of the Darkest Art by Owle Bullock," Harry mouthed to himself as he searched the bookshelves. Behind locks and restrains, he could barely see the authors' names, all of them were ordered alphabetically. He moved slowly through each book, his fingertip sliding down the book spines as he read each of their title and author. He found the authors and books that he already had, Dark texts whose secrets are already known to him, but yet…

"It's not here," Harry said. "No… can't be." But he looked through again and again, three times he checked and with each time he moved slower and slower, reading the title and author aloud to the empty room, sometimes reading a book title thrice to make sure that he read it correctly. During his time reading, not once did Owle Bullock's name pop up. "Where is it?" he growled in frustration. "It should be here… I see no reason why it shouldn't be… unless…"

Harry looked at the Marauder's Map again. "Why wouldn't that book be in here…" he muttered to himself. "The others are here, why not this one?" He looked around the library's section of the map, wondering if there is a corridor or a room that he never noticed before or looked in. Finding none, he then started looking around the castle, trying to figure out where Madam Pince could hide the book. "But she wouldn't do something like that, would she? Hide a book…Unless… it's not her who hid it. But who else would hide the book?" Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Come on Harry, you can do this. There has to be something you're missing."

"Voldemort gave me a task: the task of finding out how he is immortal. It must be Dark Arts, it must have something to do with that so how? How did he achieve this? He must have been researching this long before he left Hogwarts… maybe he started when he was my age, or maybe younger? So he must have found the answers in a book here, Bullock's book, but why isn't it here? What changed between those times?" His thoughts turned to Dumbledore. "He was only a teacher when Voldemort came here… since then he became Headmaster. …If he already knows how Voldemort became immortal, or if he at least knows the book he used… Dumbledore would have removed it to prevent other students from learn the secrets Voldemort learned. …If that is true... then it would be… in… his office?"

Harry frowned and looked at the map. Dumbledore's office was deserted. The Headmaster asleep in his quarters next to it. Harry stared at the office for a long moment before making up his mind. Putting the Invisibility Cloak on again, he ran out of the library and slowly made his way to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance jumped aside when Harry said the password to it, and he rode the staircase as it spiraled towards Dumbledore's door. He stepped inside the office and took off the cloak. Nothing was moving, the past headmasters were all snoozing in their portraits, Fawkes the phoenix was resting in his cage. Harry slipped his wand out and whispered, "Accio Secrets of the Darkest Art."

A large, thick tome came flying out of Dumbledore's desk and towards Harry. The boy caught it just as the oil lamps in the room sparked to life. "Harry, I was wondering who my nighttime intruder was," Dumbledore chuckled merrily. "Though, I am very concerned to see you holding that book."

"Professor Dumbledore… I didn't know I woke you up," Harry said, panicking for a second.

"Don't worry, though I would like to have an explanation on why a student is sneaking around the headmaster's office," Dumbledore said.

"I've… I've been thinking," Harry said, his mind whirling as he tried to fix up a lie. "Looking through the memories, and remembering things that Voldemort told me himself… I couldn't help but wonder why he kept coming back. I mean, when he tried… when he tried to kill Jamie and I when we were babies, the Killing Curse was rebounded onto him. He should have died but he didn't. Then when we were in our first year, Jamie went against Quirrell and Voldemort, but I didn't know how that could be. I mean, he supposed to have died but his spirit or something lived on. And then there was that diary in second year that I went against. Tom Riddle told me that Voldemort was his past, present, and future. He grew into Voldemort… but how could a memory do all of that? I've looked through the restricted section… read a lot of terrible things, but each book I've looked all pointed to this book here, but I couldn't find it in the library, sir. …"

"You think that this book holds the answer, don't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Maybe," Harry said. "Have you read it, sir?"

"No, I have not," Dumbledore said. "I must admit that where there are few things I fear, the contents of that book is one of them."

"Then… would you mind then, if I look into the book?" Harry asked hopefully.

"If you believe that it would help in our quest to defeat Voldemort, I will allow you to venture into the dangerous unknowns found in that book," Dumbledore said. "Only, however, if I am here to supervise and help you if the dangers of that book becomes too much. Do you agree?"

"Yes sir," Harry said at once.

"Then, I must also say that unfortunately, we cannot delve into this book, nor anytime soon as I have pressing duties that ask me to leave the castle momentarily," Dumbledore said.

"I think I understand," Harry said. "But sir… can I at least look at the book's table of contents, if it has one? That way I'll have an idea on how to proceed."

"That should come to no harm, I expect," Dumbledore said. He moved to sit down at his desk and motioned for Harry to move as well. "Please, sit down Harry. You might as well be comfortable as we venture into dangerous territory."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He moved to Dumbledore's desk and placed the book down. He sat down in an armchair in front of the desk and pulled it closer. Harry opened the book and examined the table of contents. He then slowly skimmed the book, opening page by page, both himself and Dumbledore just staring at the page as if waiting for the answer to spring forth to them. It took Harry half an hour to get through the book. Both he and Dumbledore looked at every page, never stopping at a sentence, only reading snippets of words, while Harry memorized every page to the best of his ability. When he closed the back cover, he looked at Dumbledore and thanked him.

"Has anything sprung out at you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"No sir, I guess the best we can do is just start at the beginning," he said.

"Yes, that is usually the best place to start," Dumbledore chuckled smiling mirthfully. He looked at a clock hanging on a wall and said, "It seems we've burnt more than the midnight's oil Harry, it is nearly three o'clock. I suggest we both retire to our beds for as little sleep as we can get."

"You're right sir, thank you. And goodnight," Harry said standing up. He gathered the map and his Invisibility Cloak and walked down spiral staircase away from the headmaster's office. He ran back to Gryffindor Tower, saying the password to a snoring Fat Lady who opened up without opening her eyes. Harry couldn't help but smirk to himself laughing coldly to himself as he returned to the dormitory.

Harry quickly grabbed his latest journal and turned to a free page. With precise hand movements, he pulled the memory out of his mind, the wand pressed against his temple drifting slowly away towards the pages of the journal. With the memory holding onto the wand, handing limp in the air, Harry flicked his wrist and the memory fell, filling the pages of the day's events. Harry immediately went towards the end of his day, watching what just transpired in Dumbledore's office. He watched as his past self started to look at the book. Harry pressed his wand against the journal and stared at the image, it was the table of contents each word there for him to read and reread as much as he liked. He then allowed the memory to play, pausing at the first page. All of its words were there, as if a camera has taken a photograph of it. Harry's smirk widen as page after page he looked at the completed work of Owle Bullock's Secrets of the Darkest Art.

"It's all here," Harry laughed to himself. "Every page…every word. Everything that I will ever need. Tom… Dumbledore… you've lost."

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was on vaca. That and I've fallen down the FFXIV hole. One moment I was a level 1 BLM and the next I'm a level 60 BLM Kitty. …Let us take a moment to savor the sentence I've just written.

David-El: Well… poor Cormac is going to fall a bit, as for Dumbledore explaining, it's not going to be needed at this rate, now is it?

Archrspoenix: I'm sorry to have you pouting… hopefully the next chapter will come out before you pout again.

4 Houses United SHRG: Thank you for reading! I'm glad you've enjoyed my story and I'm sorry to say that Cormac is far from done… and I'm sorry.

Jokul Frosti: That's what the shipping name is called? Huh I like it! And no, Cormac isn't done, the poor boy.