"Dumbledore called for me last night," Harry confirmed, when Hermione found him. Her coven had gathered outside on the lawn, listening. "McGonagall came and got me just as I got there at curfew. He asked me all about catching Rhamnaceae and the coven."

"Did he read your mind?" Hermione asked urgently.

"I—I think so?" Harry admitted. "I found myself reliving some of the memories when he asked about them. Like when he asked about rituals we had done, I found myself thinking about the snake ritual and spider ritual, even though I only meant to tell him about the bonding ritual." He winced. "I think I managed to keep him away from the first part of catching Rhamnaceae, though – he had to have me pull that memory out and put it in a stone bowl for him to watch, somehow."

"A Pensieve," Blaise said, mildly impressed. "Those are rare."

"What did he see?" Hermione asked, and Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "He seemed really into the Parseltongue and interested in the painful part of the coven bonding."

"It was pretty intense," Susan agreed. "I felt like I was being torn apart, really."

"No, not that part, though that was pretty bad too," Harry admitted. "The really painful part, right after we finished the incantation – the part right before everything felt like a—"

He turned red, and Blaise snickered.

"Blissful?" Blaise suggested, smirking. "Overwhelmingly good?"

"Yes," Harry said, relieved. "Like that."

"That part didn't hurt me," Hermione said, puzzled. "As soon as we finished the final lines of the incantation, the world exploded into bliss for me. There was no 'extremely painful part'."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?" He glanced at the others. "What about you?"

"It didn't hurt me," Susan said. "It was just very suddenly wonderful."

"Me too," Luna agreed. "We said 'so mote it be' all together, and it felt like my very magic itself orgasmed."

Harry flushed red again and Blaise smirked, while Luna's smile didn't flicker, not showing the slightest bit of shame. Harry turned to Blaise.

"What about you?" he said. "Maybe it's a guy thing – did it hurt you too?"

Blaise shrugged.

"Sorry, I'm with Hermione on this one, mate," Blaise apologized. "Nothing hurt me at the end – it all just felt good."

Harry looked alarmed and confused.

"How come I hurt, then?" he demanded. "Why was I the only one to feel like part of me was being burned alive at the end?"

"Burned?" Susan stressed. "Not torn apart, like the rest of it?"

Harry considered.

"Yes," he said finally. "It felt like part of my magic or my mind was being burned alive, before it was very suddenly gone and everything felt amazing."

"It was probably some sort of purification, then," Susan said. "Remember we couldn't wear anything else but our robes or it would burn on our skin? A big part of the ritual is that we bring 'ourselves, and nothing else' to bind together. If you brought something else, it would be purified and burned up while the coven bond was being made."

"So… part of my magic wasn't mine, then?" Harry was alarmed. "Was it my mother's? Dumbledore told me once it was my mother's sacrifice that saved me as a baby – did we just burn up my protection from Voldemort?"

Blaise and Susan flinched at the name, but Hermione's eyes were wide, horror slowly dawning over her face.

Harry had felt something burn up inside of him during the coven ritual. Which meant when Harry had promised to bring 'himself, and nothing else' to the coven, something else had come along anyway, in order for it to be burned up, even though they had been meticulous about purifying themselves before the bond.

And Dumbledore had been asking about the melted pendant found with Rhamnaceae, and then immediately asking about the coven ritual…

Has anyone in your coven tried to speak Parseltongue since your coven ritual…?

"Harry," she tried. Harry looked at her, and Hermione fought to get into the right state of mind she needed, trying to envision a snake on his shoulder.

"Harry," she tried again, satisfied when it came out as a hiss. Harry looked surprised, and Blaise shot Hermione a look.

"I thought we weren't doing this in front of Susan yet so she didn't feel left out," he said, his lips and tongue slipping around the hissing syllables of Parseltongue. "What are you doing?"

"Is that Parseltongue?" Susan demanded, her eyes wide. "Do you all know how to speak that? I thought only Harry did!"

"We do. And Harry did," Luna said. "But apparently, not does."

Hermione looked to Harry. Harry's eyes were wide.

"That's Parseltongue?" he said. His eyes flew to Luna's, then to Hermione's. "You said something in Parseltongue?"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Blaise wanted to know. "You can understand it too."

"He can't," Hermione said, a cold feeling in her chest. "That part of him burned up in the ritual."

Harry looked alarmed, then indignant.

"That's not fair!" he said. "If Voldemort left that skill behind when he tried to kill me, I rather liked it, once I wasn't the only one."

"We can do the ritual again," Hermione said, "for you and Susan."

"And it was foreign magic," Susan said, giving Harry a commiserating smile. "Probably not the best to have any part of You-Know-Who's magic in you, you know."

Discussion turned to how and where they could all meet up during the summer as a coven to do rituals and repeat the snake ritual for Harry and Susan. Luna was offering her house and backyard, as her father was extraordinarily open-minded, but Hermione was only half-listening the entire time. Blaise gave her a concerned look, but Hermione ignored it, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes still wide, a cold dread still filling her chest.

If Dumbledore suspected the coven bonding ritual had done what she suspected it had, no wonder he'd said her coven had done much good.

It was a simultaneously an incredibly relieving and utterly horrifying thought for her to entertain.

"Tom!" Hermione demanded, storming up to the border of the lava river. "Tom!"

"Hermione," Tom said mildly, looking at her. "You're certainly in a huff, aren't you?"

"How many horcruxes did you make?" Hermione demanded, and Tom look surprised, then darkly amused.

"How did you figure out there was more than one?" he asked. "Did you find another one in the castle?"

"Is there another one in the castle?" Hermione wanted to know, and Tom shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I, after all, only ever made one – me. The other part of me, however, could have made more."

"Did you plan to make more?" Hermione pressed.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "And if I did?"

Hermione exhaled sharply, sitting down hard.

"I think one got destroyed," she said, and Tom looked alarmed.

"Destroyed?" he said. "Which one?"

Hermione gnawed on her lip.

"Is it possible to make a horcrux accidentally?" she asked. "I think Voldemort made one without meaning to."

"No," Tom said immediately. "The ritual that's required is extensive, and it's not something that can be done by accident."

Hermione frowned.

"Drat," she said. "I had thought that Voldemort might have accidentally split his soul when he tried to kill Harry."

Tom was looking at her sideways. "Why?"

"When we did the coven bonding ritual, Harry felt something burning up inside of him," Hermione explained. "And now he can't speak Parseltongue anymore."

Tom's eyes widened.

"It's… possible," he said slowly, "that Voldemort went to the Potters' house with the goal of using Harry as a sacrifice to complete a horcrux. If so, he would have performed the start of the ritual before visiting the Potters, intending to complete it when he killed your friend." He paused. "That would have left his soul somewhat 'primed' to split, so to say."

"The horcrux ritual requires a human life as the sacrifice?" Hermione said, making a face. "I don't know why I didn't think of that beforehand. Of course the darkest ritual known to man would involve murder."

Tom's face was carefully blank, but Hermione ignored his odd expression.

"If that happened, what does it mean?" she pressed. "Will Voldemort know?"

Tom considered.

"If this works like I suspect it works, I doubt it," he said. "Whatever sliver he put into your friend would probably be so small that he wouldn't be able to sense its destruction."

"Would he be able to sense if you were destroyed?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not right now, because he doesn't have a body," Tom said, raising an eyebrow. "If he had a body, I think he might. I was the first, so I'm the largest."

"The largest piece of soul?" Hermione asked, thoughtful. She looked up at Tom. "So how exactly does it work – you tear your soul in half each time?"

"Something like that," Tom equivocated.

"So you were the first, so you're half of his soul," she said. "So the next would be half of what was left, so a quarter of his whole soul. And then if he did it again, it would be an eighth."

"Just so," Tom said, his lips quirking.

"How many did he make?" Hermione asked again. "How many?"

Tom looked at her, considering.

"If his plans stayed the same as mine were when I started," he said, "your friend would have housed one sixty-fourth of the entire soul."

Hermione's mind raced through the math.

"Voldemort made six Horcruxes?" she said, horrified. "Six?"

"That was the plan," Tom said agreeably. "Six Horcruxes, for a seven-part soul in total. Seven's a very powerful magical number."

"That's mad," Hermione breathed, her eyes wide. "How does Voldemort even still do magic with one sixty-fourth of a soul left?"

"Well, he doesn't, does he?" Tom pointed out. "He's a parasitic shade without a body."

"How did he do magic before, then?" Hermione asked pointedly. "When he only had 1/32nd of a soul left? Is someone's magical core tied to their soul?"

"I'm not sure." Tom shrugged. "I suspect that so long as his Horcruxes aren't destroyed, he'd probably maintain his power. I used to feel a tugging on me, years and years ago – maybe that was him using magic?"

"So if you're destroyed, he grows weaker?" Hermione queried.

Tom shot her a sharp look. "He's a shadow that's 1/64th of a soul. I daresay he's weak enough without need to talk of strategically murdering me."

"I wouldn't!" Hermione objected. "But I'm curious. Hypothetically, what would happen?"

Giving her a dark look, Tom stopped to consider.

"He'd probably grow weaker and mentally unstable," he said slowly. "People with damaged souls seem to slowly go crazy."

"I dread to know how you know that," Hermione said flatly, and Tom laughed.

"I grew up to be the Dark Lord, Hermione," he said, his eyes glinting. "You can't imagine my scholarly pursuits were solely academically minded."

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Remind me again why I'm friends with you?" she said, annoyed.

Tom's eyes gleamed.

"You're a smart one," he told her. "You know to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. And I'm both your friend and foe."