So? What do you think?"

Elphias frowned and, raising his head from the book he had been reading in the library, he answered, not without a hint of disbelief, "You're telling me you thought about our project when you saw that?"

Albus tried not to wince.

He knew his excuse was hard to believe. The thing was, Albus had known from the very start which subject he wanted them to study for their defence project, but he had also wanted to make it look like Elphias was the one who got the idea. The reason why was that the subject he wanted to work on was so sensible he didn't want it to be connected to him or his family in any way. Nobody was to figure out why Albus was so interested in this particular topic. Unfortunately for him, he had taken too long and the only book talking about it was a history book about the creation of the first magical communities and their causes, meaning it would be extremely hard for him to fool anybody.

This subject, however, was too important for him to give up so close to the end, so Albus smiled and said, "I have found that reading that book was excellent to cure my insomnia. It's just that I was thinking about our project when I reached this part and thought it could be interesting to study this, don't you agree, Elphias?"

Elphias just stared at him.

Albus tried to keep the smile on his face. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he gave up and sighed. "Ever since Professor Merrythought's announcement, I've been hoping I could use this project to advance my future career as a researcher," he started explaining, "so I thought it was important to find something interesting enough that people would later talk about it outside school."

"You're already publishing in magical newspapers," Elphias countered.

"It's not really the same." Shaking his head, he explained, "At the end of the day, these competitions and these articles I'm writing are imposed on me. I do what I'm asked to do, in fact I'm sure that if it weren't me, anybody else would write the same thing I do."

"That's not true!" his friend exclaimed. "Nobody can do what you do. Perhaps some could write something on these subjects, but would their work be exactly like yours? I doubt it!"

"You flatter me, Elphias. Still, at the end of the day, I have little liberty when it comes to what I'm working on. I have to respect what others want me to write if I want to be published. For this reason, I thought to take advantage of the situation to do something that is purely mine . To do that, I need to find something nobody else would be interested in. I apologise for being difficult these past few weeks, but I think that this particular subject is my best shot at doing this and, as I've made you wait long enough, we should choose this project and start working on it. What do you think, Elphias?"

That should do it, Albus thought. The excuse he had prepared wasn't completely wrong, as he indeed was quite limited when he was usually writing for Transfiguration Today . It wasn't really a lie, in fact. Albus was just presenting reality in a way that would allow him to hide what he didn't want others to see. As his friend knew that fact better than anyone, Albus had little doubt that Elphias would accept the excuse.

Elphias however looked at the book he was holding once more, a frown on his face. Biting his lower lip, he said nothing for a long time.

Finally, he raised his head and said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Albus."

Albus startled. "Pardon?"

"Our project. I don't think we should study it."

This wasn't supposed to happen, Albus thought. If there was one thing Albus had never doubted, it was that, no matter what, Elphias would always have his back and agree with everything he'd do. So why wasn't he? Of all times to disagree with Albus, why did it have to be now ?

Seeing his friend's confused face, Elphias gave a long sigh. "I understand what you say about wanting to work on something nobody studied before. The thing is," he started explaining in a tone Albus found extremely annoying, "I don't see any connection with Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'd even say you're off-topic."

Albus startled. "Off-topic?" he incredulously repeated. "Elphias, where do you get the idea it's off-topic?"

"Well, that thing you want to study. This Obscure thing-"

"Obscurial," Albus automatically corrected. "The correct term is obscurial."

It had taken him years for him to learn that word, but now that he knew it, there was little doubt in his mind that this was what Ariana had become. For years, his mother had forbidden him to look for anything that could in any way be connected to their sister's condition. Back then, when people at Hogwarts only knew of Albus as Perceval Dumbledore's son, Albus had understood it wouldn't be a good idea to rock the boat. Now however, his mother's refusal to put a name of what Ariana Dumbledore had become seemed more like playing ostrich.

"Well, that's the thing: that's not dark magic, is it?" Seeing Albus' astonished face, Elphias quickly elaborated, "From what I can see, an obscurial is just a child who got terribly sick and whose magic is running amok. Perhaps it could be interesting if we were studying healing but our project is about Defence Against the Dark Arts. So… Yes, Professor Merrythought will probably say we're off-topic and that we're wasting our time."

Albus froze.

There hadn't been anything concerning Obscurials in any defence book he had read, Albus suddenly remembered. He had believed that was because it was something to keep secret, or maybe it was a subject so dangerous these authors hadn't considered mentioning it, but perhaps the real reason was far simpler.

But these screams, that terrifying dark force, the devastation it left behind How could it be anything but dark magic?

It took him some time to recover. After a long pause, he murmured, "With your reasoning, werewolves shouldn't be dark creatures either."

Elphias frowned. "It's different though. I mean, werewolves attack people and-"

"Only when the moon is full," he softly interrupted. "The rest of the month, they are like you and me. With an obscurial however, you cannot predict when the next crisis is going to happen. It can be in a month like it can be in an hour."

"Werewolves got bitten," he countered. "They're dark creatures because there is a risk that they will bite somebody else and pass on their curse. With obscurials, there is no risk of anybody else catching whatever they have."

"You're assuming that the werewolf curse is, in fact, a curse."

"Of course it's a curse," Elphias said, annoyed. "It's in the name, Albus!"

"No," he softly shook his head and leant back on his chair. "It's true that we call werewolves' condition as such, but we have yet to prove that this is one. As far as we know, it could be a magical sickness not unlike dragon pox," he added, knowing that his friend hated when anybody mentionned the illness he had previously suffered.

As expected, Elphias grimaced. "Well… you only become a werewolf when you're bitten, so I don't see how you can say it's an illness. I mean, what sort of illness can be caused by a mere bite?"

"Rabies. In fact, many healers have theorised that there could be a connection between rabies and the werewolf's 'curse' and that, perhaps, Pasteur's vaccine could be key in helping us find a cure. Now, you can argue that nothing has been found since but research is always slow in these fields so my point still stands."

Elphias spluttered. "Obscurials are kids, Albus!"

"And eight times out of ten, the werewolf is a child," he sadly replied. "An adult's body is rarely able to handle the stress this transformation causes and he very often dies the next full moon. Look at the statistics: according to the Werewolf Hunting Unit, out of the fifty werewolves they put down every year, forty are under fifteen," he explained, hoping his friend could finally see his point.

Elphias however looked horrified. "That's… That is sick, Albus!" he exclaimed. He grimaced when the librarian shushed him, and leaning on the table between them, he hissed, "That is sick, Albus. How can you kill a child for something he cannot control?"

Albus suddenly felt very tired. With a long sigh, he weakly nodded. "I know. Unfortunately, this is the world we live in, Elphias. Whether we like it or not, we live in a society which condemns those who are different, let it be because their blood isn't pure enough, because they don't have magic, because they're not fully human, because they're sick or cursed, or even because of who they love."

This was a reason why, for how much he resented all the secrecy, Albus couldn't blame his mother for her paranoia. Not when the world has previously shown her its ugliest face and so much was at stake. No matter how Kendra Dumbledore had tried to convince her children that Ariana would be sent to St Mungot should anybody find out about her condition, Albus knew that was just a nice lie and that the truth was far darker.

"I know your heart is in the right place," he softly said. "However, the very concept of 'dark creatures' is flawed and basically means 'whoever isn't like us and we do not like'. Perhaps it will change someday, but until then, I'm afraid that obscurials would be classified as dark creatures, if only because there is no way anybody would accept them."

Elphias' face hardened, and for a sharp second, Albus feared that the other boy would keep arguing and put a stop to his plan. Heart racing, he watched his friend's face go through several emotions: shock, anger, sadness, and, perhaps the worst of all, disappointment.

Finally, Elphias painfully closed his eyes and sighed. "I understand. I don't like what you're saying, but I understand. If you really want us to study obscurials, then that's what we're going to do."

Albus's heart leaped, and it took all he had not to grin. "Thank you."

"Still," the Gryffindor added, "I feel like you're wrong when you say nobody would accept them."

Albus was so relieved to have his way that he readily agreed. "Perhaps some people would. But, like I said, the ministry would absolutely do their best to put them down like any werewolf."

Elphias looked away. "It's so messed up," he muttered. "What you said about them hunting werewolves and killing them like animals."

Albus painfully closed his eyes. "That it is. Unfortunately, that is the world we live in and we have to accept it."

"Do we though?"

Albus frowned. "I'm afraid I do not understand."

"You say this is the world we live in. Perhaps it's true today, but it doesn't have to stay this way. You're saying that the system is broken, so why instead of crying about it we fix it?"

Albus startled. "Fix it?" he dumbly repeated.

"Yes!" With a fervour that Albus had never seen in his friend before, Elphias leant on the table between them and excitedly whispered, "These laws are clearly from another time, probably made by old purebloods who don't realise that society has changed. Once we leave Hogwarts, we could work for the Ministry and change things. What do you think?"

Albus dazedly blinked. "I'm a half-blood though," he felt forced to say. "And my father is in Azkaban. Maybe people will listen to you but I doubt I'll be popular enough to push such reforms."

Elphias incredulously snorted. "You said that nobody would like you during our First Year and now you're the school's star student. As for your dad, I don't believe people remember much of him nowadays. Sorry," he quickly apologised. "What I meant to say is-"

He raised a hand. "It's fine, Elphias. I understand what you mean."

He had never really thought about politics until that point. Truth be told, he had been more focused on studying magic and he believed he had, all things considered, more the heart of the researcher than one of a politician. That being said, Elphias wasn't wrong: he was clever -a genius even- he knew there was a problem and he had a few ideas about how he could fix it. He had the brain, he was rather popular, he was magically gifted…

Who else could fix this broken system, if not him?

The week following Harry's confrontation with Voldemort was peaceful.

True, he was still as overworked as before. Nevertheless, the discovery that his mother's protection was shielding him and everybody else from the dark wizard's evil presence had lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders. So what if Voldemort was living in his head? It wasn't as if he could lay a hand on him, and Harry knew he was getting closer to discovering a way to defeat him.

"You seem to be in a good mood, my friend," Albus said as they were leaving potion and heading to alchemy.

Harry stopped whistling and smiled. "So do you."

Albus lightly chuckled. "I confess I am quite pleased with how my research project is now advancing."

"Good for you. Me and Slughorn are still at the starting block and Merrythought is now urging us to change subject before it's too late."

"Slughorn and I," Albus absent-mindedly corrected as they were taking the stairs. "And I am sure that you will have a breakthrough like Elphias and I did."

"I hope you're right." As they finally left the dungeons, Harry couldn't help but ask him, "What are you studying anyway? I know you're supposed to tell us during class tomorrow, but can I have a teaser?"

Albus' smile stilled. "Yes," he absent-mindedly murmured. "Yes, you were a great help in my breakthrough, so I suppose it's only fair. Very well then, the subject Elphias and I picked is about obscurials."

Harry considered the auburn-haired boy's words. "I've never heard of it," he finally admitted. "Is that some sort of dark creature?"

"As I told Elphias, a case could be made, but the reality is far more complex. Let's just say that an obscurial is what a magical child turns into when they try to suppress their magic to avoid persecution. When that happens, an obscurus is created and starts attacking whoever they deem a threat to their host. Such transformation is however very taxing and, ultimately, the obscurus' help ends up killing the obscurial."

Harry stopped walking.

Seeing his friend had stopped following him, Albus turned around and sadly smiled. "A tragic fate, I admit. For everybody involved. Thankfully," he added in a voice that Harry knew was trying to be cheerful, "with the erection of the statute of secrecy, the risk of such an event happening has been drastically reduced and there hasn't been one in centuries."

Harry uncomfortably swallowed, suddenly remembering how Uncle Vernon had one day told him that they should have tried to 'beat the magic out of him'. "The risk still exists though."

Albus bit his lower lip and looked away. "Yes, it does," he said in a very small voice. "No matter how small the probability is, the risk still exists. Perhaps it always will."

For a long time the two of them didn't say anything and Harry couldn't help but wonder why his friend was so obsessed with that specific subject.

Unlike the others, Harry knew that the prefect had wanted to study obscurials from the beginning. Even when the Slytherins were laughing at him, Albus Dumbledore hadn't given up on his search. Why he was focused on them, Harry didn't know, but he had a feeling that it was very personal and that he shouldn't pry.

As they finally reached the third floor, Harry turned to the auburn-haired wizard and told him, "Well then, I wish you good luck with your project."

"Thank you, Harry."

"And I really hope you find that cure, Albus," he finally said, hoping Albus understood what he had meant.

"So do I, Harry," Albus absent-mindedly answered. "So do I."

"You wanted to ask me something, Mr. Dumbledore?" Professor Neotera asked the prefect when she noticed the boy had stayed behind.

Albus swallowed and sharply nodded. "Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you about-"

She raised a finger. "Sorry, but I share this classroom with your Charm professor and he has class with the Fourth Year in five minutes. Will it take a while? Because if it is, perhaps it would be better if we talk about it in my office."

"It may be better if we go to your office," he admitted.

"Understood." Closing her leather satchel, she motioned him over and Albus followed her, the two of them leaving the room and heading to the fourth floor. Once Professor Neotera opened the door to her office, Albus couldn't help but gasp.

It was exactly how he had always imagined an alchemist' office to look like. Potions moving through glass tubes from one boiling flask to another, a golden cauldron where a silver potion was peacefully bubbling, shelves full of scrolls and grimories in languages Albus couldn't recognize covering every wall and, to Albus' delight, a cabinet of curiosity filled with various coloured gems next to the mahogany desk at the other side of the room.

Despite himself, Albus walked to the cabinet of curiosity and, admiring the numerous broken stones of different colours in the cabinet, he breathed, "Are they failed attempts at making a philosopher stone?" he breathed.

"In a manner of speaking," the woman behind him distractedly answered.

He pointed at a round grey stone cut in two. Unlike the others, this rock seemed rather plain, making it paradoxically the odd one. "And this one, what is this, Professor?"

"It's a rock."

Albus took a second glance at the stone. Surely that couldn't just be it. "And what was it before it was a rock, Professor?"

She shrugged. "Whatever rocks are made of before they become rocks, I suppose."

He frowned. There had to be a reason why it was put there, he thought. Some great secret only somebody extremely clever could discover. "So does this stone have physical properties that make it different from other rocks?" he tried.

Her lips slowly curled. "No, it's a rock like any other. You can find many others exactly like this one in Greece."

It was going to be harder than expected. "Is this rock charmed to do something then?"

"No, it's just a plain, boring old rock." Seeing his put-out face, she chuckled. "Better luck next time, Mr. Dumbledore."

A thought suddenly came to him. "Was it always 'just' a rock?"

Professor Neotera blinked, then gave him a melancholic smile. "No. No, it wasn't. And that's all I'm going to say about it."

Albus couldn't help but give her a satisfied smile. "Of course, Professor."

"Still, well done. Most people leave this room believing I keep it for no reason whatsoever. Now then," she sat on the desk, hands gripping the edges of the desk, and Albus' attention was drawn to the red stone lying on top of a pile of paper next to her right hand. "What did you want to ask me?"

The question brought him back to reality, and Albus took a deep breath. If the prefect wanted her to take him seriously, he needed to play his best card right now. "I don't know if you're aware, but I have been keeping a correspondence with Master Flamel and in one of his letters he-"

"You know Nicolas?" she exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

Albus blushed and silently nodded. He knew very few had the honours of writing to the legendary alchemist, so he wasn't surprised to see that even an experienced one like his teacher was envious. Even now, the fact that he was one of the very few people in the world who could regularly write to him would make him as giddy as the day the old man had answered his letter.

"I read an article of his a few years ago," he began waving his tale, "and I couldn't help but wonder why he claimed that it was necessary to use phoenix tears to stabilise the potion when he-"

"Hold on a second: are you that kid who fixed his equation to transform a rhinoceros into a unicorn? Pernelle and I had a good laugh when that happened."

Albus startled. "You know the Flamels?" he weakly said.

"If I know the-" She snorted. "Nicolas and I had a master-apprentice relationship. It was a long time ago now, but we kept in contact and we sometimes compare our notes. Our notes, and our blunders. Brilliant solution by the way," she remarked. "A bit rough, but I suppose you hadn't learned the Dagworth theorem then. Honestly, you could have reached the same solution in ten lines if you had used it.

Albus flushed. "I was eleven."

She winked. "Please don't misunderstand me. What you did was brilliant. Why, dozens of alchemists didn't notice his mistake until you pointed it out. All I'm saying is that there was a more elegant way to reach the same conclusion. You have the brain," she informed him, "but there are still basic lessons you need to learn. That, and you need experience."

Albus preened. "Duly noted, Professor." He was about to mention his project but he couldn't help but ask, "Wh-What was it like being his apprentice?"

The woman blinked a few times. "What was it like- Oh, I see." She slowly grinned. "Are you interested in becoming his apprentice someday by any chance?"

Albus flushed. "I-I wouldn't dare to- I-I mean…" he stammered. "I would be delighted but I know that Master Flamel is a busy man and-"

"Busy?" she snorted. "You're never 'busy' when you're immortal. If anything, you get lazy. Why, if Pernelle and I weren't there, that idiot wouldn't do a damn thing. That reminds me…" She snapped her fingers and Albus was startled. "Do you think that your classmates would be interested in meeting him?"

"Am I-?" he spluttered. "I-I mean I wouldn't- I mean if it was- I mean, I don't know how we could- I don't think that Headmaster Black…"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that your headmaster would agree that Nicolas Flamel coming to Hogwarts is a great opportunity for the school and its students. Considering his son is also studying alchemy, I do not see why he would refuse. This is very easy for me to make it happen and I was considering dragging him here already so don't believe I'm doing it just for you. Just be honest: do you think that you and your classmates would like to meet him?"

"I-I- I mean- I would- I mean we would- We would be delighted."

She clapped her hands and grinned. "Then it's decided! Maybe this weekend won't be possible, but in ten days definitely…"

Ten days? What sort of power did that woman have? he numbly wondered. The greatest alchemist in the world… Which strings could she pull for her to be so confident that he would leave his country and come here?

If his alchemy professor noticed his mental breakdown, she didn't show it. "I doubt you came here to talk with me about Nicolas, though. So what did you want to ask me?"

Albus dazedly blinked. "Oh r-right. W-Well, as I'm sure you know, Professor Merrythought asked us this year to work on a research project."

"That is actually new to me. My fault, I suppose." She pensively looked at the ceiling and hummed. "I cannot say I enjoy spending time with other people. And I suppose you want my help with it. Very well then, what is your research project about?"

"Well, as it happened, Elphias Doge and I have decided to work on obscurials."

"Ah obscurials," she painfully closed her eyes. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. What do you want to know about them?"

Albus considered her reaction. "Have you met an obscurial before, Professor?"

She darkly chuckled. "A few."

Jackpot, Albus giddily thought. He had hit the jackpot.

"Though obscurials aren't dark creatures so I don't quite see why you chose this subject. Are you sure you're not off-topic, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Not again. "As I told Elphias," he patiently repeated, "the very concept of dark creatures is flawed and like werewolves-"

"There's a major difference between obscurials and werewolves, Mr. Dumbledore," she pointed out. "For one werewolves spread their curse through their bite and-"

"We have no proof that this is a curse and not an unfortunate illness."

"You're missing the point," she interrupted. "Some families have predispositions and have children more likely to become obscurials but-"

Albus sharply raised his head. "They do?"

The woman now looked annoyed. "Do not interrupt me, please. With werewolves, there is an easily identifiable vector of transmission and that's the reason why they are hunted. This isn't the case with obscurials."

"But-"

Professor Neoteta gave him a look. In a tone that broke no argument she asked, "Do you want to be remembered as the boy who believes that terribly abused children are dark creatures and should be exterminated like these werewolves you keep mentioning?"

Albus flinched. "O-Of course not," he protested. "I don't- I don't believe that at all ! I just-" His voice broke. "I just thought that- That perhaps if I could find a cure…"

"A cure?" She rapidly blinked. "Oh. Oh ."

Albus panicked. "Th-This is all theoretical of course!" Waving his hands, he hurriedly started explaining himself, "I just- I just read about them in a history book and I thought: what if something's like that happens again?"

"Of course," she cajoled him. "Of course. And as I told you that alchemy was about transformation and purifying the soul, you're wondering if it could be used to remove the obscurus living in it."

Albus hesitated. "Precisely."

The woman looked at him through her long dark eyelashes and, for a terrible minute, Albus was convinced that she knew exactly why he had picked that specific subject and that she was going to tell everyone about what had become of Ariana Dumbledore. Already he could see his mother screaming at the aurors dragging his sister away and leading her Merlin knew where. Perhaps St Mungo, perhaps her grave.

She hummed and Albus irrationality, but quickly, considered all his options. A skilled alchemist she might be, that didn't necessarily mean that she was a good duelist. Maybe if he managed to draw his wand fast enough… If he could raise his wand first…

Albus' plans to obliviate the witch only stopped when he heard, "You know, you are not the first person who considered using alchemy to cure an obscurial."

Albus blinked. "I'm not?" he numbly repeated.

A ghost of a smile formed on her lips. "If you really want to know, I was the one who considered it. It was a long time ago now, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I thought that, if I could separate the obscurius from the obscurial's soul, the child would be saved. That was the idea anyway: either we could purify the obscurus and the child's soul would recognize it as hers again, or we would separate it from its host and both would manage to live their own lives."

He stopped breathing, for that was exactly what he had planned to do. "And?"

"And… it didn't work." She tiredly sighed, looking strangely very old at that moment. Seeing Albus' crushed face, she tiredly ran a hand through her dark hair. "In our defence, we had no way of knowing what would happen. We really didn't know what we were doing back then but we… No, I was convinced that we had to try. And if it failed… Well, I thought that it could teach us a lot, and that, eventually, what we would learn that day would help us save somebody else in the future. But it didn't. It… It really didn't."

Looking at her pained face, it was clear that there was more to the story. Something deeply personal that Albus was certain she would never share with him or anybody.

"It was a mistake," she declared. "A terrible mistake and I decided to stop looking for a cure and focus on other things. It wasn't… It wasn't worth the cost. Nothing was worth what happened after that day."

Who are you to decide that? Albus couldn't help but think.

If Professor Neotera hadn't given up after her first failure, then maybe a cure would have existed when Ariana had turned into one. If she had kept working on it, then perhaps his sister would be at Hogwarts, healthy and living the life she should have had.

Albus shook his head and tried to let go of his building resentment. It would do no good for him to obsess over what ifs. All that mattered now was the present.

"You said 'we'," he reminded her. "Meaning that you weren't the only one who tried to help this obscurial. Does- Does that person share your opinion now or did he or she try to-"

She wetly snorted. "Don't bother looking for him. He's been dead for a while now. As for whether you can turn an obscurial back to a wizard, I'll share with you what I learned the hard way: real change comes from within. Outside forced transformations never last."

"Transfiguration-"

"Transfiguration only changes the shape and matter of what is in front of your wand. It will never do more, for no magic can reach the metaphysical world. No matter which animal you turn a rock into, that rock will never gain a soul and will inherently be just that: a rock. Besides," she pointed out, "obscurials are created because somebody at one point tried to turn a child into something he or she was not. Do you really think the cure you seek can possibly be somebody doing the exact same thing?"

"It's not the same thing!" he exclaimed.

"Is it now?" she started musing. "All I see is two people forcing somebody to change in order for that child to fit their idea of what is 'right'."

"An obscurial is a dangerous-"

"I'm pretty sure a few muggles would say the same about wizards, so try again." Seeing his shaking fist, she sadly shook her head. "I'm sure you have good intentions, Mr. Dumbledore, but you know what they say about good intentions. Oh, I'm sure your teachers would agree with you, but unlike them I've met actual real obscurials."

So have I. He wanted to scream. I have and that's why I'm doing this.

"And you know what? Of all the obscurials I had the misfortune to meet in my life, those who lived the longest never were those that well-meaning fools were trying to 'fix'."

That woman didn't understand, Albus desperately thought. How could she possibly understand? These people were most certainly strangers she had met during her travels and she never had to face a relative living through it. How could she know how it felt like to wonder each time the family owl came if the letter it was carrying would be the one that would finally inform him of her passing? So what if the woman had failed a long time ago? Was he supposed to let time run its course and watch his sister wither away?

Ariana was already twelve. If the records he had found were to be trusted, any day could now be her last. How could she ask him to stop looking for a cure and tell him that he should just wait for nature to run its course? How could she, possibly, understand?

For Ariana Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore was willing to break the laws of nature. He didn't care if others said it was wrong. If the witch in front of him had such scruples, Albus wasn't going to let them stop him. He was going to find a way to cure her. He could do it, he knew he could.

The alchemist looked at him for a long time, seemingly searching for something. Some hesitation maybe, a sign that Albus was reconsidering his position probably. Finally she shook her head and let out a heavy sigh.

"Nicolas said you are a brilliant wizard, so I'll trust his judgement when it comes to you and assume the same. If there really is a cure, then perhaps you will discover one eventually. But," she warned, "as long as you let your emotions and your ego get in the way, you will not find it."

Harry checked his watch and with a finger flicked the crystal. Immediately the dial vanished and was replaced by the countdown timer.

If he understood how the artefact was working, Mr. Evans' former watch seemed to indicate that the person he was expecting would only come in fifteen minutes.

He pocketed the watch and looked at the numerous books in the Restricted Section, he wondered if that meant he was supposed to start working without his partner.

The thing was, the deadline that their Defence professor had set was in a week and Harry didn't see how they could turn things around. They had months to do so, why would they get lucky now?

It would be better if they came with a new project, Harry mused. Professor Merrythought herself had told him they should start looking for a plan B. Instead of fruitlessly looking for any mention of this 'horcrux', he should probably cut his losses and spend his time considering what he and Slughorn should study next. A topic that was lower hanging fruit and would allow them to grasp an easy Aceptable, or even an Exceeded Expectations.

Harry sat down on an armchair and after retrieving his quill and his parchment started daydreaming, not paying much attention to what he was drawing. Perhaps he could be the one picking the subject this time. He could decide what they would work on; something less boring, something actually important that would mean something. But what could it be?

He glanced at his parchment and snorted when he realised his arabesques looked awfully like snakes and lighting bolts. Then, he considered his drawing with more depth.

His mother's sacrifice had protected him every second of his life. A love so strong that death itself had to turn away for it couldn't harm her child. A protection so powerful that neither the most dangerous dark wizard in history or the parasite living inside his head could lay a hand on him. What magic in this world deserved to be studied more than this one?

His throat tightened.

None. To Harry Potter, the protection she had raised that terrible night would always be the greatest magic of all. If there was one branch of magic Harry needed to learn, it was the one. He owed his mother and her sacrifice that much.

The door to the Restricted Section opened and Harry quickly hid his notes behind some blank parchments. Looking up at the person entering the room, he stated, "You're late, Slughorn."

The Slytherin leaned on his knees and, between two heavy breaths, apologised. "We-We had an incident in Care of Magical Creatures. All- All the creatures escaped to the Forbidden Forest and- and we had to retrieve them. I-I didn't make you wait too long, did I?"

Only twenty minutes.

"Di-Did you find something?" Slughorn asked, his voice carrying a hopeful note to it that, upon seeing the Gryffindor shaking his head, dwindled off into a disappointed/defeated sigh. "Dammit."

"You knew it wouldn't be easy," Harry reminded him.

"I did. Believe me, I did. Still, the way that author was talking about this horcrux made it look like it was something many dark wizards would want to have. If they succeeded in having one, then surely one of them would have boasted about his. That was my reasoning at least. Honestly, I don't understand why we haven't seen any mention of it so far. It's as if…"

"As if somebody removed every mention of them," Harry impatiently finished. "You've told me your theory a dozen times already, Slughorn. But you know what? It doesn't matter if you're right or not. It's November already and we have nothing. It's time to admit it: we won't make it. That's why we need to choose a new project if we want to finish in time for May."

Slughorn looked at him desperately, "But- But we have to find out what it is!" he exclaimed. "Don't you want to know, Potter? After all that time we spent looking for it, aren't you even a bit curious?"

Harry groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

Truth be told, any mention of horcruxes was still making him uneasy. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but he knew deep down that it was important. Still, could he afford to waste more time following a path that was leading nowhere?

"It doesn't matter what I think," he murmured. Raising his head and intently looking at his partner, he told him, "Professor Merrythought told us that if we don't find anything by the thirtieth, she'll force us to change subject. We don't even have a week left. What makes you think we'll have more luck now?"

Slughorn hesitated. "M-Maybe we looked at the problem the wrong way. Let's assume that there is a book about this horcrux here," he slowly began. "The problem then isn't that there is no book, but that we do not know how to find it. We read everything we could about the darkest magic recorded here, but maybe that wasn't the correct way to find what we're looking for."

Harry considered Slughorn's point. "Alright then, what are we supposed to do then? I mean, it's not as if the book will come to us if we summon it, so what's your plan?"

Slughorn raised his head sharply. "That's it!" Hitting Harry's desk with his palm and making his quill fall, he exclaimed, "We should try summoning it!"

Harry snorted. "Be serious, Slughorn. There's no way-"

"Why not?" he excitedly whispered. "My mother always says that the solution to everything is only one accio away. Maybe it's the same here!"

"You need to know what you're seeking," he reminded him. "And-"

"And we do," he finished. "We are looking for a book about horcruxes. Maybe that's all we need for the charm to work. What do we have to lose anyway? Either it works or it doesn't, so why don't we give it a try?"

Quickly retrieving his wand from his pocket, the Slytherin put it over his head and with a sharp twist said, "Accio book on horcruxes."

Nothing happened.

Seeing the blank look on Harry's face, he chuckled nervously. "I skipped my Fourth Year," he tried to defend, or better yet excuse himself, "so I didn't work that charm as much as I should have. Just let me… Accio book on horcruxes! Accio-"

"Slughorn," Harry sighed. "It's not working."

"It will! I'm just- I'm just not using the right words. Accio book mentioning horcruxes! Accio horcrux! Accio evil book on horcruxes!"

"You need to know exactly what you're summoning," he reminded him. "Wish for it so dearly you can feel the broom in your hand and the smell of the wax you put on it the day before. You only have a rough idea of what you want at best, so the charm cannot find it."

"At least I'm trying," he snapped. "You're acting like I'm desperate, but I feel like I'm the only one who gives a damn about this stupid research project. I thought we were a team, Potter, but what have you done except complain about us not making any progress?"

"I just-"

"Save it, Potter." Slughorn coldly interrupted. "I thought that if I worked with you or Albus, I could have a good mark. One good enough that people would maybe start taking me seriously, but you've just been fiddling your thumbs while I did all the hard work. Albus might be patronising, but at least his help means something."

Harry flinched.

He had never been good with research work. It was always Hermione who knew which book would contain the information they needed. Even now, he was pants at it and hadn't been able to find any solution to his problems. He had thought it mattered little if he only did the bare minimum. The Slytherin had seemed fine with doing the heavy work, so surely it was alright, no?

Clearly, he had been mistaken and the outwardly cheerful boy had in fact resented the situation all along.

"Sorry, Slughorn. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't bother, I know better now. I'm sure you wouldn't have picked me if you had a choice anyway."

"I-I'll make an effort from now on, I promise." Seeing the blonde boy crossing his arms and glaring at him, he tried, "I'll cast the summoning charm. Who knows? Maybe you're right and it's indeed going to work."

Taking his own wand and pointing it over his head, he closed his eyes and focused.

What he had said earlier was true: they didn't have in theory enough information to correctly summon the book. But perhaps he could make a few guesses and that would be enough to solve their problem.

Magic Moste Evile had been written in the Middle Ages. That was the only fact he and Slughorn had discovered since the start of their project. If the knowledge about horcruxes had been lost to time, then the book he was looking for had to be just as old if not even older. The same way, for nobody to have been able to find it until now, the book must have looked quite conspicuous. Far from the ones he and Horace had read, and which would curse them if not opened properly, this one was probably even older.

Or maybe not. Maybe they had been hitting the wrong tree the whole time about why nobody was talking about them. Maybe the real reason why nobody was mentioning horcruxes was because those having one wouldn't want their enemy to know about their existence. Maybe that was the important part: secrets. Secrets, and dark magic.

So what about Secret of the Darkest Art by Owle Bullock?

"Accio, horcrux book."

Harry felt his magic flowing through his arm and into his wand. Eyes still closed, he heard the whistle of something flying near his right ear, then a firm 'thud' and a gasp.

When he opened his eyes, a midnight blue book was lying on the table and, in silver letters was written Secret of the darkest Arts .

"No way," Slughorn breathed. He then incredulously chuckled. "No freaking way."

Harry paid the boy no attention and hurriedly took the book, knocking the parchment off the table in his rush.

Like during the necromantic séance, those last thoughts hadn't been his. And if they hadn't been his, then that meant that Voldemort had given him the answer. But why ? Why would Voldemort help him? What was in it for him?

"So?" Horace breathed as Harry was rapidly flipping through the page. Getting up, he walked behind Harry and looked over his shoulder. "W-What does it say?"

Chapter 13: Horcrux

This is the final secret. The most important of all: immortality.

If you have tried to discover a way to cheat death, then I am sure that you have heard of alchemists' foolish quest to the Stone. Herpo himself has once tried to make one with his lover before understanding how flawed the entire thing was. The problem with the fabled Stone is that, even if you make one, you will be forever enslaved to it. Furthermore, you can still be killed, for the Stone only saves you from dying of natural causes. For this reason, Herpo decided to take a different path to immortality. His genius was that, instead of putting his attention on the body like everyone else, he focused on the soul.

To make a horcrux, you have to tear your soul and then put a sliver of it in a durable object. That way, the day a man kills you, the connection between your soul and that object, your horcrux, will prevent you from moving on, for part of your soul will be forever bound to it. As long as your horcrux is not destroyed, you will remain immortal. It is vital for this reason that you choose the thing that will host your soul carefully and place on it as many protections as possible.

Of course, I hear those telling me that such an act goes against the laws of nature, that the soul does not belong in the mortal realm and is meant to be one. It goes against everything these cursed Christians have erected. Without a doubt, many will say that making a horcrux is evil.

To all these people I say this: There is no good nor evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. It is up to you to decide which side you're on.

A whistle. "The secret to immortality. I-I knew what we were going to find would be good but immortality… And how do you do that?"

As Slughorn started flipping the pages, Harry's head slowly turned to the pages that had fallen to the floor, still dotted with wet splotches of ink.

"And apparently to make a horcrux you need to commit murder," he heard a far-away voice say. "A-Among other things. L-Like this… and also... and… D… Dear God. That's- That's terrible. It's- It's disgusting. What-What sort of monster would ever consider doing that?"

Black ink had fallen on the floor, leaving big dark spots on the yellowed parchment at his feet.

It should have meant nothing, but when he looked at the figures, all he could see was the drawing of a dark, smeared figure hovering over a crib.