"So what exactly is going on?" Sirius asked. "Not that it's not nice to see you—" He nudged Harry, who was sitting next to him in Grimmauld's kitchen, and then eyed Dumbledore, who was sitting across from them.. "—but it's unexpected, and I can't imagine you'd have risked sneaking him out past Umbridge if it wasn't important—" His eyes went back to Harry. "—even if she seems more keen to court you than condemn you right now." Harry grimaced; he'd filled Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore in on his detention with Umbridge while they waited for Dora to get home from work.
To say Sirius was concerned was an understatement, but he didn't think that was what had brought Dumbledore here tonight, especially since it had been news to him at the time that Harry was telling it.
"Umbridge wants to—?" Dora began, but Remus squeezed her knee:
"Later," he said, and gave Harry an expectant look, but Harry was watching Dumbledore with an intent look on his face, the sort that meant he was waiting for information too. Dumbledore smiled:
"I must ask that what we discuss here this evening remains between the five of us. Harry made a good point last night in suggesting we utilise the Order, but I do not believe that the whole Order should be aware of what I am about to tell you, for a number of reasons."
"Sure," Sirius said slowly. He glanced at the rack of memory phials and the pensieve, which Dumbledore had brought with him and which sat on the kitchen table. Then he glanced at Harry, whose face gave nothing away. "And the rest of your lot?"
"I trust Harry's judgement about what is appropriate to share with his friends," Dumbledore said, and seemed to mean it.
"Assume they'll know everything you do," Harry said, giving Sirius a strange smile. Dumbledore glanced at Harry and nodded slowly, then clasped his hands on the table.
"You are familiar with horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked, looking mainly at Dora, who frowned and nodded. "Excellent." He paused. "On a less excellent note, I believe Voldemort has more of them than we have encountered so far."
"He— what?" Sirius felt rather ill.
"There was the locket, which you discovered and dealt with," Dumbledore said, "and there was the diary, which, of course, Harry destroyed at the end of his second year. I believe there are at least two more in addition to the piece of soul which resides in his body."
This announcement was met with silence broken a few seconds later by Remus' quiet, "Godric."
"How can you be sure?" Dora asked shakily. "Or have you found—"
"We have not found anything, and I am not sure," Dumbledore said. "I am merely guessing, but it is an educated guess, and I would be more surprised to be wrong than I would to be right." He steepled his long fingers. "We shall start at the beginning—the very beginning—and I hope, that it will be helpful and relevant. Some of this will not be new information, but it shall help you build a bigger picture of what we are up against." Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, and smoothed his beard down. "Lord Voldemort was born with the name Tom Marvolo Riddle," he said, and Sirius had a moment of surprise; it seemed Dumbledore really did mean the beginning.
"When I first met him, he was living in a muggle orphanage," Dumbledore continued. "The matron—a woman by the name of Mrs Cole—told me they took in a young woman—Voldemort's mother. She gave birth, named the baby Tom for his father, Marvolo for her father, said that his last name was to be Riddle, and then died shortly after. Marvolo is a distinctly wizarding name, but was not an uncommon one amongst Voldemort's grandfather's generation—"
"Grandfather Pollux was Pollux Marvolo Black," Sirius mused.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "There are also Marvolos in the Malfoy, Potter, and Burke, and Selwyn lines."
"Purebloods," Dora muttered, shaking her head.
"I looked, you see," Dumbledore said, "for Tom's sake; he was very curious indeed about his family, and when I suspected him of opening the Chamber of Secrets when he was at school, I looked even harder. But there were no Marvolos with daughters unaccounted for or disowned, nor did any of the Marvolos I could find have an obvious connection to a Tom or riddles, or a Riddle. But Tom himself discovered the connection—I daresay he was more thorough in his investigation than I was—and learned he was descended from Slytherin. He kept it from me—knowing I would tie him to the Chamber of Secrets—but he did not keep it entirely secret, instead trusting the truth of his identity to his diary… Around the same time, he tracked down his maternal family, stole their heirloom ring—which you are familiar with, I believe—"
"Regulus' ring," Harry said quietly, looking at Sirius, who raised an eyebrow. "The one from the paper we found when we moved in."
"The resurrection stone?" Remus asked. Harry nodded.
"Whether Lord Voldemort knows that's what it is is another matter," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps he simply believes it is an heirloom from his mother's family. Or, perhaps he uncovered its true nature a few years ago when he was pursuing the Hallows. I do not imagine it makes much difference either way."
Sirius looked at Harry for a clue about where this might all be going, but his face didn't reveal anything helpful.
"Right, so Voldemort stole a ring," Sirius prompted.
"Indeed he did," Dumbledore said. "And then murdered his father and paternal grandparents, framing his mother's brother in the process."
"Lovely," Remus said.
"Morfin Gaunt spent the better part of fifty years in Azkaban—" Sirius let out a gusty, pitying breath. "—until the Chamber was most recently opened. It was then, of course, that Harry discovered Regulus' work, putting together what the rest of us had not—" Sirius felt a stab of old, sad pride. "—that Marvolo Gaunt had a daughter not named on any family trees or included in any magical records. A squib named Merope who fell in love with a muggle man named Tom Riddle, and had Lord Voldemort.
"I was able to question Morfin about the ring, though his mind was far from whole after so long in the dementors' care. He confirmed it had gone missing around the time he met his nephew, and Ginny Weasley has since confirmed that she saw the ring in the diary Tom Riddle's possession."
"We knew that though," Sirius said. "Voldemort was hunting Hallows—"
"We did and he was," Dumbledore agreed. "But not only Hallows. Voldemort was an incredibly talented student—the next Minister for Magic, many of his teachers believed, though I already suspected he would follow a darker path… But he did not join the Ministry; he wished to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but my predecessor, Headmaster Dippet—while fond of Tom—told him he was too young at eighteen. And so, instead, he became a shopkeeper at Burgin and Burkes."
"The artefacts shop in Knockturn?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows; he'd raided it enough times to know.
"The very same," Dumbledore said. "He had a keen interest in magical objects, an eye for the powerful and valuable, and charisma enough to convince whomever he wanted that they ought to buy or sell something." Harry snorted softly at that, scent grimly amused. "It is there he came into contact with a woman named Hepzibah Smith."
The name niggled at Sirius, and before Dumbledore could speak again, he realised why:
"She died," he said, and while Remus, Dora, and Harry all looked fairly unsurprised—that was Voldemort's pattern, after all—Dumbledore stared at him in astonishment. "Poisoned, wasn't she? By her house elf, but you thought Riddle had something to do with it."
"I did," Dumbledore said, still watching him. "He disappeared almost immediately afterward, and wasn't seen again for years. I was keeping tabs on him as a potential Dark Lord in the making, and while Lord Voldemort was a talented enough Legillimens to fool the Ministry, he was not yet so subtle that he could fool me, and Hokey the house elf's mind bore all the signs of having been tampered with…" He gave Sirius a shrewd look. "I presume you know this through Regulus." Next to Sirius, Harry's eyebrows shot up.
"No," Sirius said, "or not that I remember, anyway…" He glanced at Harry who shrugged and shook his head. "I— Marlene and I found the old Auror's report when we were looking for ingredients in the poison Quirrell—or at least I assume it was him—put on the snitch in Harry's first Quidditch match." He frowned at Dumbledore. "Why would Reg have been interested in Voldemort and a house elf?"
"Wouldn't have been the first time," Harry muttered, eyes flicking pointedly upstairs in a way that Sirius took to mean Kreacher, but he too looked interested.
"Because Hepzibah Smith was something of a collector. And when Voldemort met her, she was in possession of two magical artefacts which could not be found by her family after her death."
"I read the transcript of the memory you took from the elf," Sirius said, trying to think back; read was a generous way to describe looking at the transcript—it, after all, had been of a time before Smith's death, and he'd really only cared about the poisoning and connection to Voldemort. "There was a bowl or something…"
"A cup," Dumbledore said, "which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff." He turned to look at Harry. "My oversight," he said, and Harry nodded slowly, though his scent was puzzled, "because the other object in her possession was a locket."
The kitchen fell quiet as realisation dawned; Dora swore under her breath, softly enough that Dumbledore wouldn't hear even if the rest of them did, and Remus watched Dumbledore with wide eyes. Sirius though, was disbelieving for two different reasons—the first was that he himself had clearly skimmed and missed that part in the transcript, and the second…
"But… you were here—you saw the locket, and— what, didn't recognise it?" It would have been forty years, sure, but this was Dumbledore.
"I recognised it," Dumbledore admitted.
"So you just decided not to say anything?" Sirius asked. "I know there was a lot happening at the time—" He'd just been dismissed from Hogwarts while it was at the mercy of Tom Riddle's diary and the basilisk—not that they'd known those details then. "—but afterward—"
He cut off at the sound of a mumbling sort of yawn, followed by a content, very young, very sleepy sigh. It was so out of place in the conversation they were having that it took him a moment to place the source; Remus' wand tip, which held the eavesdropping charm that Remus had set up on Stella when he put her to bed. By unspoken agreement, all five of them were silent for a few seconds, but no other sounds were forthcoming from the wand.
"I wondered at the time what had become of the cup if the locket was with you and was a horcrux," Dumbledore said, picking up the conversation again. "But the diary was found shortly after and destroyed, and the basilisk slain—" He inclined his head at Harry who wore a frown to rival Sirius' own. "—and then Cornelius in his wisdom introduced the dementors…"
"It's been two years since then," Sirius snapped.
"But Voldemort sought the Hallows," Dumbledore said quietly.
"And the Philosopher's Stone," Sirius said impatiently. "So what?"
"Nicholas' Stone produces—or, produced, rather, since it has been destroyed—the elixir of life, which can preserve life indefinitely, but it is also known for its healing and its transformational properties. Lord Voldemort sought the Stone not for the immortality it would bring him—though I am certain the idea of not ageing appealed to him—but because it could restore his body."
"And the Hallows can't?" Remus asked.
"No," Dumbledore said, and though soft, his voice was full of conviction. "The Hallows, when combined, grant the holder with immortality and power, and make him the Master of Death, but a body…? I don't think so—"
"The Elder wand's supposed to be insanely powerful, though," Dora said. "In the stories, anyway, but if the stories are true enough that the Hallows exist, then surely—"
"The Elder wand is a powerful tool," Dumbledore said. "And perhaps it could be used to create or transfigure a body, or perhaps not, but Voldemort did not seek it any more desperately than he did the cloak, and he certainly did not find it, nor—as in the case of the cloak—was he tricked into believing he had."
"You know where it is," Sirius said, eyeing him. Harry seemed to be staring an incredulous hole into the side of Dumbledore's head.
"I know that it is not with Voldemort," Dumbledore said calmly. "For one, Harry would likely have felt his triumph, and for another, the night of the fourth task would have unfolded very differently were Voldemort in possession of an unbeatable wand." Beside Sirius, Harry nodded slowly, settling.
Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face:
"So… you thought that because Voldemort was after the Hallows—"
"That he was out of horcruxes and feared death once more?" Dumbledore finished for him, and Sirius nodded. "Yes, I did. I put aside thoughts of the locket and cup and focused on keeping Voldemort from the Hallows, and the dementors and the likes of Peter Pettigrew from harming my students… And then, last year, the Triwizard Tournament and everything associated with it held a significant amount of my time and attention."
"You couldn't have delegated?" Sirius grumbled.
"To investigate a cup that's not been seen for forty years and which he didn't believe was a horcrux because of the Hallows pursuit?" Remus asked wryly. Sirius made a face at him. "And to what end; our focus last year was getting through the Tournament—this wouldn't have helped with that."
Sirius imagined he'd have told Dumbledore where to stick the cup if Dumbledore had tried to suggest he make it and not Harry his focus last year.
"You still could have mentioned it," he muttered, and Dora snorted and gave him a gentle nudge under the table; a cue to let it go. Dumbledore, though, inclined his head.
"What I'm interested about," Remus continued, "is how you can be sure there are other horcruxes. It's madness, isn't it, to make a soul that unstable—"
"Madness indeed," Dumbledore said softly, "and it has surely had consequences he did not anticipate…" He and Harry shared a look which Sirius couldn't parse, not even with scent to help him; Harry smelled wry and Dumbledore grim and tired. It had not escaped Sirius' notice that Dumbledore had not explained why he was sure. "As well as some that he did; the prophecy—though he remains unaware of it—suggests the only way for Lord Voldemort to be vanquished is through death, and he cannot die."
Either must die at the hand of the other, Sirius thought and sneaked a glance at Harry, who gave him another odd smile.
"Not yet," Sirius corrected. Remus snorted.
"Quite right," Dumbledore said, scent amused for a moment before it became more resolute. "And that is why I am here." He inclined his head at Harry, who smiled slightly.
"You want help finding horcruxes," Remus surmised, and Dumbledore inclined his head.
"The ring I mentioned before… Harry believes that is one of them."
"And the cup?" Sirius said.
"And the cup," Dumbledore agreed. "Even as a boy, Lord Voldemort had a tendency to collect trophies; items which he considered to be of value. I believe that tendency has continued into his adult life, and will be reflected in the things has chosen to make horcruxes from."
"Slytherin's locket," Sirius said, nodding. "Although from memory, the diary wasn't particularly valuable—"
"It was to him," Harry said, speaking for the first time in a while. He looked at Dumbledore. "What he did to the diary, the way Ginny said it worked… I think it might have been a bit like the Map. Lucius Malfoy gave it to Ginny to get rid of it, I'm sure, since that's about the time you were doing the raids, but—"
"I'm sorry, what?" Sirius choked, as the others' heads snapped toward Harry, who went very still. "He— Malfoy what?" Harry winced and shrank a little.
"I confess I always suspected his involvement in it," Dumbledore mused. "Certainly one of his followers had to have planted it at Hogwarts or with young Miss Weasley, but I wasn't aware it had ever been confirmed to be Lucius…"
"Er.. yeah," Harry said awkwardly, face a little pink. "Dobby told us it was a diary that was behind the attacks—that's how Ron and I figured out it was Ginny."
"And you didn't explain this at the time?!" Dora demanded; white shock and a dark, peachy pink exasperation seemed to be warring on her head.
"He's Draco's dad," Harry said, expression an odd mix of defiance and resignation. It had been a conscious choice of his, then, Sirius realised. "It didn't seem right for Draco to wake up from being petrified and find his dad in Azkaban."
"Lily's son indeed," Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"James," Sirius disagreed. Lily, while kinder than James, had too strong a sense of right and wrong to let something like that slide. James, on the other hand, would have done exactly what Harry had; protected his friend and his friend's feelings, even if it came at the cost of proper justice. James had done exactly that; Sirius had never kept his home life a secret from James, and while James had been willing to take him in, he'd not ever tried to have his parents press charges against the Blacks. Sirius wasn't sure the Potter parents had ever known the full extent. They should have. Sirius should have told them, or James should have, but Sirius had been too relieved to be away from them to want to revisit it all, and they'd been so young. Only sixteen.
Harry and Draco had been twelve.
Now though, at fifteen, Sirius couldn't help but think Harry's decision might have been different; he had, after all, tried to make sure charges stuck to Malfoy after the fourth task.
"Anyway," Harry said, shifting, "knowing what I do now… there wasn't enough concrete proof for the charges to have stuck, just Dobby's testimony—if he was even able to give it—that Malfoy had had the diary at some point before it ended up with Ginny. If I couldn't get them to investigate him after seeing him in the graveyard, what chance would we have had then; we're fairly sure he put it in her cauldron at Flourish and Blotts, but none of us actually saw him do it."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
Harry was probably right, even if Sirius didn't like it; he'd long thought Lucius Malfoy belonged in Azkaban.
"Sure," Sirius said, and scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right." He glanced at Harry. "Any other secrets you'd like to share?"
"Not right now," Harry said. Sirius couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"Any other oversights?" he asked Dumbledore instead.
"None that I am aware of," Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"Great," Sirius muttered. "Back to the diary, then?"
"Well, I think we can surmise that it was one of very few things which was truly Tom's," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort grew up in an orphanage in the immediate aftermath of one muggle war, and during another muggle war and our war with Grindelwald. That the diary was his would have meant something, and once upon a time, I daresay he used it to document his research into his parentage. As such, I imagine it held considerable value to him."
"I think it was a way to open the Chamber of Secrets, too," Harry said. "That's why Dobby warned Draco about bad things happening at Hogwarts before Ginny even had the diary; Draco was trying to pass on his message that same day in Diagon Alley. Malfoy mightn't have known it was a horcrux, but he would have known that much, I think."
"I think you may be right," Dumbledore said, nodding. "And it would also explain why the diary wound up with Lucius in the first place. Lucius is one of Voldemort's most faithful followers, but there are others who rank more highly. But, of those in Voldemort's innermost circle, Lucius was one of very few who had children."
"Huh," Sirius said, thinking through the implications of that, that the Chamber might always have been intended to reopen. A rather ill-feeling part of him was glad it had opened when it had, and through Lucius; had it gone to another family with kids who hadn't been in Harry's year, or had Harry not had Draco and Dobby's help, the school might have been shut for good, and Voldemort returned earlier. Remus grimaced, likely thinking along the same lines.
"So what now?" Dora asked. "Obviously the locket and diary are dealt with, but the ring and cup—if you're right about all this—are still out there. And this has all been fascinating in an awful sort of way, but I still wouldn't know how to find either of them, unless you have any more guesses you'd like to share…?" Her tone turned playful, though her expression remained serious.
"I believe we should operate off the assumption that Voldemort will likely have chosen places or people of significance to keep his horcruxes safe," Dumbledore said.
"Malfoy I can understand," Sirius said, "especially if you're right about the diary being able to open the Chamber and him having kids… but the locket was in a cave. You'd consider that somewhere significant?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "From what you and Kreacher have told me of its location, I believe a young Tom Riddle may have found it and used it to terrorise some of his peers from the orphanage during a seaside holiday."
"Merlin," Sirius muttered, and Harry snorted from beside him. "Sounds about right, though."
"Which leads us nicely to the pensieve memories," Dumbledore said, waving a hand in their direction. "Contained within these phials are my own memories of a young Tom Riddle, as well as memories from others who interacted with him during his rise to power. I ask that you review them."
"In the hope that we get ideas about where he might have hidden the other two?" Remus asked, as Dora gave the rack a considering look.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. Harry frowned:
"But if they're here—"
"You will find copies of all of these in your Room if you ask for them," Dumbledore said, and Harry's expression cleared. "And I imagine the Room can produce a pensieve for you while mine is in use here, or that young Draco Malfoy can lend you his." Harry nodded slowly, scent alight with curiosity and pleasant surprise. "The five of us can revisit this topic at Hogwarts, and at Order meetings," he added, looking away from Harry to Sirius and the others. "But I ask, once again, that you do not share this any further. And, I ask that you not pursue any leads without consulting with me first." Dumbledore glanced at Dora's frown and his scent grew amused. "Not due to any doubt in your ability to handle yourselves," he said. "Voldemort is adept at many unpleasant and obscure forms of magic, but Sirius has already proven himself capable with the cave."
"Just," Sirius muttered, sharing a grim look with Harry.
"Even so," Dumbledore said. "No, it is because we cannot afford for Voldemort to grow suspicious. If he notices us scoping out his old haunts or contacts, he may realise what we are after and enhance his existing protections, move the horcruxes entirely to somewhere he can better monitor them, or even create others to replace those already destroyed."
"But he must know about the diary already," Dora said, looking at Harry this time.
"He does," Harry said.
"So wouldn't he have checked on the locket since returning? I would, if I'd left something important alone for the last fifteen years."
"Regulus' fake is still there," Harry said. "Padfoot refilled the basin, I think, so if he's just looked in, he'll see the locket where it should be, and hopefully not be able to tell it's not the real one. If he's taken it out there's not much we can do, but maybe he'll think it happened a long time ago, and not recently—"
"In fairness, it would've happened a long time ago if Kreacher'd been able to destroy it," Sirius said. "But Voldemort'd have to be stupid not to consider that Reg wouldn't have passed on information before he died."
"Sure," Remus said, "but then he'd have checked the other horcruxes and found them intact. That's got to go a way toward putting his mind at rest, surely."
"Which is exactly where we want it to be," Dumbledore said.
"For as long as possible, anyway," Dora murmured, and then straightened. "Well, I'm in. I'm not sure how I'll find time between work and Order stuff and everything else, but I'll manage."
"It'll be nice to have a project," Remus said, shrugging, but Sirius could tell he meant it; as much as Remus loved his daughter, and enjoyed the traffic of various Order members through Number Twelve, he'd always done best when he had things to keep him busy. "And there's no point asking you if you're in," Remus said, glancing in Sirius' direction, and Sirius grinned despite himself, though not with much humour.
"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. He sighed. "And on that note, Harry and I must be getting back, before we are missed." He pushed to his feet and checked his pocketwatch.
"Yeah, all right," Harry said, standing too. Sirius stood beside him but caught Harry's arm before he could move toward Dumbledore and the kitchen fireplace.
"Is something else going on?" Sirius asked quietly, and saw Remus' head twist slightly toward them.
"I don't think so?" Harry said, looking bemused. He spoke at a more normal volume. "I told you about Umbridge already."
"So there's nothing else?" Sirius asked. They were almost the same height, now; he didn't need to look down much at all to meet his godson's eyes.
"Should there be?" Harry asked, and seemed confused more than challenging or defensive.
"I— no," Sirius said. "Maybe I was reading too much into some of what was going on there." He inclined his head at Dumbledore, Remus, and Dora. "Seemed like there was something else on your mind."
"N— Oh," Harry said, with understanding now, and something that was not quite pity or guilt, but something that was both and yet neither. He was quiet for a long moment, considering. "I… know why Dumbledore's sure there are other horcruxes," he said at last, and Sirius couldn't smell a lie, but there were layers to it that Sirius didn't—and clearly wasn't meant to—understand. Even so, Sirius raised an eyebrow, inviting further explanation. The corners of Harry's mouth turned up into something that wasn't quite a smile; it was another of those strange expressions he'd been making all night. "I can't tell you—"
"Can't, or won't?" Sirius asked mildly.
"Bit of both," Harry replied in the same tone. His scent was not sad, worried, or frustrated; it was calm, and steady enough that Sirius could tell that pushing would get him absolutely nowhere, nor was there anything concerning enough to merit it.
Sirius nodded and Harry—though he hadn't looked tense—suddenly seemed more at ease.
"You don't need to know right now, anyway," Harry said. "But it'll probably come out eventually." He grimaced a little.
"Like the truth about the diary and Malfoy?" Sirius asked. Harry made another face and Sirius smiled and pulled him in for a hug. Harry returned it, clearly aware Sirius was just teasing him. "Good luck with Umbridge," he said. "I know you're not enthused by the idea of going along with the Ministry, but it might be worth it in the short term, if only because it'll keep Umbridge happy. She's right that you don't want her as an enemy—"
"Yeah, maybe…" Abruptly, Harry's expression turned sheepish and mischievous and Sirius was looking at a green-eyed James. Sirius heard Remus make a soft sound and saw him looking properly; clearly he'd noticed the sudden resemblance too. "But, actually, there is something else you should know about."
"What've you done?" Sirius asked, more intrigued than concerned.
"Nothing yet," Harry said in a tone that was not particularly reassuring. "But… er… we think we might start learning Defence. Properly."
"Like the Tournament preparation you did?" Sirius asked, and shrugged. "Seems sensible, if Umbridge isn't going to teach you anything useful." A funny expression crossed Harry's face and he opened his mouth, but—
"Come, Harry, we must be off," Dumbledore said, before stepping into the Floo. "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts."
"Seems sensible," Harry repeated, as stepped toward the fire. "I'm going to remind you you said that."
"I'm not sure we want to use Sirius as the judge of what's sensible," Remus said, as Harry took a handful of Floo powder. Harry grinned, stepping into the flames. "Especially not when whatever it is makes you look so much like—" Harry disappeared with a whoosh. "—James," Remus finished fondly. "What in Merlin's name is he up to, Padfoot?"