Chapter Two

The following weeks were a blur of classes, homework, and Quidditch practices for Harry. However, the memory of his late-night conversation with Malfoy in the Room of Requirement lingered in his mind. He spared glances at the blonde when he thought the other wasn't looking. Harry wasn't as subtle as he thought as both Ron and Hermoine were noticing him more now.

"Mate, you've been staring at Malfoy during this whole meal," Ron mentioned.

Hermione nodded and added, "Is there something you want to talk about? I know I was busy the other day, but we can now."

It was a bit ironic that, now Harry had finally told someone else about his stressors, his friends had begun to worry and care. Harry shook his head, dismissing their concern, "I just noticed that Malfoy has kept to himself this year is all." It was an excuse, but a true excuse.

"Yeah, I sort of noticed that too!" Ron agreed between mouthfuls of food, "He's just been slinking around his lackies."

Harry could see Hermione roll her eyes and shake her head, "Honestly, you two."

As Harry was about to continue eating, a note dropped in front of him. 'Please come to my office after dinner. I'm quite in the mood for some Fudgeslingers -AD' Harry read the note twice before sighing. He decided to take as long as possible to finish dinner.

"You two can head up before me, I've a meeting with Dumbledore now."

As Harry entered the headmaster's chambers, he was greeted by the familiar ambiance of the room, with its shelves lined with books and various magical instruments.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing to him to take a seat, "I have something important to discuss with you."

Harry settled into a chair; his curiosity now piqued, "What is it, Professor?"

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes bore into Harry's, filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve, "Harry, I'm sure you're aware that defeating Voldemort will not be an easy task."

Harry slowly nodded. Oh, Harry knew alright. It's been held over his head his entire life. It was one of the reasons he was so stressed now.

"I thought that it was time I shared a crucial piece of information with you. You see, Voldemort has taken steps to ensure his own immortality."

Harry frowned, confusion clouding his features, "What information hasn't already been shared?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily, "Voldemort has created Horcruxes, Harry."

Harry's heart seemed to skip a beat as the weight of Dumbledore's words settled in. Trying his best to keep his voice steady, "Horcruxes? What are they?"

Dumbledore explained, "A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of their soul. By splitting their soul and placing it into these objects, they become nearly immortal. As long as even one Horcrux exists, Voldemort cannot be truly defeated."

Harry's mind raced as he absorbed the gravity of this revelation, "How many Horcruxes are there, Professor?"

Dumbledore's expression grew grimmer, "We have reason to believe that Voldemort created seven Horcruxes in total, making himself exceptionally difficult to defeat."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Oh. Oh no. "S-Seven?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes. And while we have already destroyed one, there are still six more to locate and eliminate."

"Where do we even start looking?" Harry asked, feeling overwhelmed by the knowledge being given to him. Surely, he wouldn't have to search for them, right? Dumbledore was still alive. He could do it!

Dumbledore leaned forward; his gaze unwavering, "I believe that Voldemort's Horcruxes are connected to significant moments in his life. One of them, Tom Riddle's diary, has already been destroyed by you. I suspect that the others may be tied to objects of great personal importance to him."

Harry's mind began to churn with possibilities. "So, if we can figure out what those objects are, we can find and destroy the Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Exactly, Harry. It won't be easy, but it's a path we must take. I've already begun my own investigations, but I'll need your help. Together, we can uncover the truth and rid the world of Voldemort's influence."

Need. Your. Help.

Harry was no longer listening fully to the conversation. Dumbledore's voice sounded as if it were underwater. All he could think was Why me? over and over again. Harry vaguely heard himself being dismissed by the Headmaster.

So, that chilly evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Hogwarts grounds, Harry found himself standing in front of the Room of Requirement once again. He took a deep breath and whispered, "I need a quiet place to think."

The door materialized, and Harry stepped inside. This time, the room had transformed into a small, tranquil garden bathed in the soft, silvery light of the moon. It was a stark contrast to the bustling, noisy castle. He settled into a wrought-iron bench, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. He could have stayed there for minutes, maybe hours. Harry didn't know. He let his thoughts consume him as he watched the nature of the garden; the unnatural wind inside the room blowing the plants and trees.

"Potter," a voice dripping with disdain snapped him out of his thoughts, "We need to talk."

Harry looked up with a mixture of surprise and panic. He saw Malfoy stepping through the door into the room. He knew this confrontation was long overdue. He watched as Malfoy glided over to his bench, frozen to his core. Malfoy stopped just before where Harry was sitting. He didn't look up; just stared at the silk pajama shirt of the blonde.

Finally, Harry looked up, his emerald eyes meeting Malfoy's stormy grey ones. There was a tension in the air, like a brewing thunderstorm ready to unleash its fury, "Malfoy," Harry replied coolly, his voice tinged with weariness. Malfoy's sneer deepened.

"That's all you've got to say to me?"

Silence enveloped them. Malfoy took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, "You can't just keep running away from everything, Potter. You can't run from your past, your responsibilities, or from me."

Harry's jaw clenched, and he pushed himself up from the bench and away from Malfoy, his expression hardening, "I'm not running, Malfoy. I'm dealing with things in my own way."

Malfoy turned with scoffed to face Harry's back, unable to contain his frustration, "Dealing with things? You call this dealing with things?"

Harry's gaze didn't waver as he crossed his arms and looked into the forest, "You don't understand, Malfoy. You can't possibly understand what it's like to be me."

Malfoy took a step closer, his voice almost softening, "No, I can't understand your scar, your fame, or your trauma. But I understand you, Potter. I understand the weight you carry because I've carried my own burdens too."

Harry's defenses seemed to crumble just a fraction, and he glanced towards Malfoy, his fingers tightening around himself, "It's not that simple, Malfoy. Not anymore."

"Nothing is ever simple, Potter," Malfoy replied with a bit of a sneer.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. The castle seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the outcome of this of conformation. Malfoy decided to take a step back and study Harry for a moment, his gaze piercing through Harry's defenses. There was something different about Harry tonight, Malfoy realized; something that tugged at his curiosity. He stepped in front of Harry once more, "Alright, I'm listening."

Harry felt a lump in his throat as he realized the significance of Malfoy's words, "Can I trust you?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "For the love of Merlin, yes. I swore it on my Magic. You have the memory of a troll."

Taking a deep breath, Harry guided them back to the bench and began to recount his story. He explained the concept of Horcruxes and revealed the existence of seven, detailing the one he had already destroyed: Tom Riddle's diary.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he absorbed the shocking revelation, "You're telling me that the Dark Lord split his soul into seven pieces? That's... That's beyond dark magic, Potter. It's monstrous."

Harry could only nod gravely, "And there are six more Horcruxes out there, Malfoy. Six objects I need to find and destroy to weaken him enough to face him."

Malfoy leaned back into the bench, running a hand through his hair, "This is insane…"

Harry continued; his voice strained with the weight of his confession, "But it's not just the Horcruxes, Malfoy. It's everything else. The constant danger, the fear, the sacrifices I'm sure will be made. It's all taking a toll on me. I know Dumbledore only wants me to help but I have a feeling that I'll be more than helping."

Once again silence surrounded them, gathering their thoughts. The only sounds you could hear for the next minutes were the rustling of plants in the wind, birds chirping, and a river flowing in the distance.

It was Malfoy's sharp intake that pulled them from the lull. His voice trembled as he spoke, "I was tormented by my family's involvement with Voldemort in the First War. They expect me to follow in their footsteps, to become a Death Eater. But deep down, I know it's wrong."

Harry's head snapped to look at him. Malfoy continued, his voice gaining strength, "If given the Mark, I would be given a task by Voldemort himself. He would order me to kill Dumbledore. I know I wouldn't be able to do it. I can't kill him. My family and I would then be killed."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. Harry's heart ached as he listened to Malfoy's confession. It was a revelation that changed his perception of his former rival, "Why are you telling me this, Malfoy?"

Malfoy met Harry's gaze, "Oh, I'm not sure Potter," Malfoy's regular sarcastic arse was coming back out, "It's not like you dumped your fucked up life on me. I should be able to do the same." He crossed his arms and sniffed in a very Malfoyish way.

Harry snorted at first then began to laugh for the first time in a long time, "I did do that, didn't I?"

Harry heard Malfoy snort as well. That was when Harry knew that any rivalry or animosity they had was now behind them.