Harry sighed contentedly as he drifted through the air in his magically reinforced and levitated clothing. It was a nice change of pace from the strenuous aerial acrobatics he performed during his daily training sessions. For most days he would spend half an hour flying unaided through the air (not too high while outdoors, as he had to perform simultaneous pushes and pulls against the ground to maintain a level altitude) in an erratic jerking fashion so that he could avoid being hit by spells cast at him from all three adults in his life. Of course, he then got to spend the next half hour flying around and casting spells at those three adults while he enjoyed watching them scramble out of the way (well, Sirius and Remus scrambled, Albus seemed to barely move and yet avoided nearly 95% of the spells).

This feeling, floating with his eyes closed, was pure bliss. He focused his magic through his left pinky toe to pull himself towards a wall. As he sensed himself nearing an obstacle, he repelled his right hip from another wall to slide out of the way of whatever was approaching (probably Dobby in the hammock that Harry was levitating). If asked, he would be unable to describe what exactly it was that let him detect his surroundings (nor how much of it was magical instinct and how much was physical instinct), but the best he could say was that Albus's training had honed his Seeker skills to a ridiculous degree of effectiveness. While on the ground, his dodging skills were top-notch. But, in the air, he was nearly untouchable.

Of course, Harry was extra relaxed because he was done with Remus's tests. It had been a bit more than five months since Christmas, with tomorrow being the first of June. As such, Harry had spent the past two days taking tests to assess how far his schooling had come. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that he felt confident about his performance, even in his weaker subjects (especially Potions).

After Albus had described the idea of a "Potions Seer", Harry had ironically found himself better able to focus on his Potions studies. It had taken a few weeks before he realized how disheartening it had been to see a young kid like Marcus (with whom Harry still corresponded on a weekly basis) take so easily to a subject that Harry struggled with. It was a relief to know that there was a reason why some people were simply going to have more of an affinity for a branch of magic than him. As the pressure to become an instant expert fell away, he realized he had subconsciously been more focused on finding a way to make Potions come easily to him, rather than buckling down to study. After all, casting unique magical spells came almost naturally to him, so it had only made sense that everything else in magic should come just as easily to him. Harry conceded that perhaps there was a shortcut to mastering the subject, but it seemed that with his lack of natural affinity for the field he would simply have to study it the hard way until he knew enough to see the shortcut. With that understanding, studying became just another facet of training. After several months of being able to focus, he now felt much more competent in both the theory and practice of Potions (along with Ancient Runes and Arithmancy).

Speaking of unique magical spells, that uniqueness was something that Harry was pleased to discover. On one of the occasional visits to Grimauld Place (either when they stopped over between Spain and Japan, or between Australia and Canada, it was hard to keep track as the transport vehicles took nonsensical routes), he found himself pondering one of his early discussions with Albus about his approach to magic. Though a magical effect could be insanely difficult to achieve, dreadfully unethical to attempt, or simply not worth pursuing, nothing was impossible when it came to magic. Harry took that belief to be a matter of fact, so why would it be so difficult to clean the grime in magic rich environments? Clearly his own experience showed that the cleaning spells did not work effectively, but that would imply it was impossible to achieve, which meant that Harry was doing something wrong. As his mind had looped over that conundrum, he remembered another facet of Albus's philosophy for magic. Albus believed that magic liked to reward those who made their own way through the dense foliage of magic's metaphorical jungle. That is when he realized that he had been using a spell that came from the well-worn pathways of magic that others had long tread, so of course he would encounter the same limitations that others had.

With that thought, he had instead focused on the effect he wanted. As he focused on the idea of an object removing all the filth, all the grime, all the build-up, returning to a state of pristine condition, Harry placed his hand on the wall of the kitchen. Kreacher had done a wonderful job cleaning the house, but it still had years of magical grunge worked deep into the various materials. Harry pushed his magic into the wall and had felt resistance. The magical residue keeping the filth in place was fighting him. Thinking back to the Malfoy wards, he had begun to experiment with "vibrating" his magic (Albus had not been able to explain his process in a way that made sense, so Harry was guessing here). He quickly lowered and increased his power, he forced the magic to push out in a wave across his hand, he even tried a blast at full strength (which did work a bit, but no more than the regular overpowered cleaning spell). Then he thought about how he would clean something like this without magic during his Dursley days. He took a deep cleansing breath, and then began to focus on the magic swirling out from the center of his hand, like using a round scrubbing brush. The resisting magic began to break down in the swirling eddies of Harry's magic. When he lifted his hand, there was now a pristine handprint on the wall. With a smile, Harry put his hand back, and focused on having the cleaning swirls continue out from beyond the borders of his hand. Ten minutes later, the walls glowed with yellow light as decades of filth dissipated into nothingness. Twenty-five minutes later, a tired Harry sat in a completely pristine kitchen (yet another thing which endeared him to the portrait of Sirius's mother, much to Sirius's annoyance).

It was that experiment where Harry finally understood that his brand of magic was unique to Harry James Potter. When he cleaned, it was a Potter spell. When he floated through the air, he was using a Potter specific levitation spell (he chuckled as he thought of correcting Hermione by saying "You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-Potter-ium Levi-o-sa"). That revelation is what led him to begin his experiments in using parts of his body to cast magic other than his hands and fingers. Sadly, he had yet to figure out how to remove the need to touch an item to cast his brand of spells, but he knew he would get there eventually. Albus had offered to give some ideas, but Harry wanted this to be his own project. This was his path to make, and he would have fun making it.

"Oh dear" spoke Albus, breaking Harry out of his reverie. He had not realized that he had so lost himself in thought. Though, he was pleased to see that he had instinctually kept floating around the room without bumping into anything (or any napping House Elf in a hammock).

Harry rotated to face down toward Albus, seeing the man was reading a letter. "What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Oh, it appears Professor Rodgers won't be returning to his post next year."

"Professor Rodgers?"

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. He's an old friend of Silvanus… Headmaster Kettleburn. It appears the poor man has had a spate of bad luck."

"What sort of bad luck?"

Albus looked down at the letter. "It appears he has managed to have over a dozen cases of food poisoning, which should normally be impossible. He has had miscast spells hit him during class, breaking both of his arms on more than one occasion. Yet, the man persevered. It appears the final straw was when the stairs randomly shifted faster than normal and then rapidly reversed directions. He then fell over the railing, managed to hang on and then the stairs moved at previously unseen speed and slammed him into the wall… 13 times in a row, though he may not recall the number precisely. He lost his grip and managed to cast a spell as he fell six stories to somewhat soften the floor right before landing and managed to survive. They he did shatter all the bones in both of his legs and completely crushed his wand. It appears the poor man has decided that the position is… not the best fit for him."

Harry winced in sympathy. "I don't blame him. Hopefully, the next professor will do better."

Albus sighed. "Hopefully, though I wouldn't count on it. I suppose it was too much to think that leaving my position would be sufficient to break the curse on the position. I had hoped that Tom had perhaps been that petty to make the curse based on my employment."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What curse?"

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Certainly, you must have heard that the position is cursed. I know that rumor has been spoken amongst the student body for many years now."

"Wait, that's true? I figured that you would have been able to solve a problem like that a long time ago if it were true."

"It is painfully true. Much like the two of us, Tom has experience finding unique ways of using magic. Luckily, he tends to be happy with extreme shows of power over finesse and experimental spells. Still, when he has a mind to do so, he is capable of amazing feats of inventiveness. He cursed the position quite some time ago, and I have yet to figure out a way of countering it, or even finding out how it is being maintained."

Harry's brow furrowed in thought. After a moment he spoke slowly. "How does it work?"

"It appears to be designed to ensure a person is unable to act in the position of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for more than one school year. How it achieves this goal varies. Sometimes the person is affected physically. Sometimes the person is affected mentally. A couple of times the person has had crimes revealed which result in them being imprisoned. Luckily for Gilderoy, it appears it was satisfied by his cowardice forcing him out of the castle. Luckily for others, it does not seem to trigger for someone acting as a substitute for a day or two, as long as that person is not being hired to take the position full-time."

"Have you tried just hiring the person for only one year? Then you would have time to interview candidates for the next year."

Albus appeared to just barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he spoke with a tone of exasperation. "Yes, Harry, I have tried that. If the person is only planning on one year, the curse still ensures they are unable work a second year. If I hire someone before the end of the school year, the curse seems to hit the pre-hired person even harder when the school year starts, and they are usually unable to teach within one month."

"Well… what about…"

"Harry, I have consulted with curse breakers, who have found nothing. I have consulted with lawyers who are experts in finding loopholes to exploit. I have renamed the course. I have canceled the course for a year, which cost me quite a bit of political capital. I have changed the physical classroom. I have tried having it taught in Hogsmeade and at Hagrid's shack. Every attempt I have made has always resulted in the same result, where I lose the professor. The more extreme attempts have had more extreme negative impacts on said professor. I have thought about making the course a fully student-run course without a member of staff leading them, but I feared the curse would view the lead student or students as the target and I much rather an adult suffering from the curse even if the students are left to mainly learn through self-study. Whatever Tom did, it was highly effective and flexible."

Harry's eyes opened wide in shock. "Wow! I… huh… it sounds almost like Tom is constantly observing and adjusting the curse to match your efforts."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I am not sure how he could do that without being there… himself…"

Albus sighed extremely deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"There is a way for him to have been there this entire time. At least, a part of him."

The room went silent at this statement. Remus looked up from grading Harry's test. Dobby popped out of his hammock. Sirius, who had been snoozing in his dog form at Remus's feet had transformed into his human form. All eyes were on Albus.

It was Harry who broke the silence.

"So, you believe, in Hogwarts, there is…"

"A Horcrux, yes."

With that, Albus pulled out the locket from his magically safe box. Harry stared at the locket. He had not looked at the thing in months, as Albus had still not had much luck in continued efforts to track down leads on possible locations. As he always did, he looked at the magic rolling off the foul artifact. Watching the tendrils of dark magic roam along the surface, seeking out the other pieces of the madman's soul.

Harry frowned.

"Albus…"

"Yes?"

"After we destroyed the ring, the number of tendrils went down to three. Right?"

Albus frowned as he responded. "That is correct". He then looked down at the locket, where his frown deepened.

"Then, why are there now four tendrils?"

"Tommy Riddly being bad dead wizard!"

Albus sighed. "Yes, Dobby, a bad dead wizard indeed."

It was six weeks later, and Harry once again found himself in Britain. Sirius and Remus were tracking down someone named… Mundingus? Muddygus? Sirius always said the name with a hiss of contempt, so Harry had difficulty hearing the name clearly. Regardless, the man had his fingers in the less than legal side of society, so they hoped he might have heard of some areas that were considered too dangerous to approach. It was Sirius who thought this might lead to a hint of where to look for the remaining Horcruxes.

Meanwhile, Albus had tracked down a hint that Tom had once worked at Borgin And Burkes, a sketchy store in Knockturn Alley that Harry vividly remembered tumbling into during his first experience with Floo travel. Walking into the store was certainly much more of a pleasant experience, now that he had Albus accompanying him and the massively increased confidence in his own ability to defend himself. What a difference it was to not be scared and confused.

The store itself was as gloomy and creepy as he remembered. In a way, it made him appreciate Grimauld Place. Grimauld was gloomy and creepy because it had been left to deteriorate over the years (although Harry by now had completely cleaned to pristine condition, even the disturbing plaques holding the heads of the Black family's prior House Elves). This store, however, was clearly gloomy and creepy as a design decision (sometimes he hated that Gilderoy had made sure Harry understood ALL about design decisions, despite his many many MANY requests to stop talking about the subject).

"Ah…" spoke a nervous Mr. Borgin. The man with sallow skin, gulped and then smiled in the same way Harry remembered Dudley smiled whenever Vernon had work associates over for dinner. It was the sort of smile might see on a plastic doll created by an alien who had been given the basic gist of what a smile was. And just like the smile, the man's oily tone of voice was equally off-putting. "Hello, Headmaster. How may I help you today?"

Albus smiled pleasantly. "Good day to you, Balthazar, it always a pleasure to see you. I was hoping to talk to you about a former employee of yours. Do you, perhaps, remember a young man by the name of Tom Riddle?"

As Albus slowly and politely interrogated the man, Harry began to wander the store. Once again, he saw the desiccated hand he remembered from his first visit. There was the fancy necklace with a warning about its deadliness. Various nasty daggers, dried body parts, and untitled books made up the inventory. It was mostly the same as he recalled, except for the odor.

During his first visit, the store had a musty odor. That was still the predominant odor. Except, now, there was a slight undercurrent of… dung? Out of a mixture of curiosity and boredom, Harry followed the odor and found it was the strongest coming out of the large cabinet he remembered from his first visit. Opening the door slowly, he peered inside to find the source of the faint whiff of foulness. Oddly, the cabinet was empty.

While staring at the floor, he began to look at the magic of the cabinet, hoping it would give him a hint. His eyes widened in interest. While visually the grain of the wood contained swirls and other interesting properties, magically It looked like the grain of the wood was made of glowing threads of light that were all pointing towards the back wall of the cabinet, the magical threads looked to be straining to start flowing into the wall. Looking at the side wall to his left, its magical grain was also pointing to the back wall. Turning his head to the back wall, things progressed in rapid succession.

In the center of the back wall, a very familiar tendril of malicious dark magic extended into the shop towards Albus. Likely connecting with the locket that Albus was carrying. Before the decision-making portion of his brain could engage, Harry's impulses warred with each other. With one impulse, he stepped into the cabinet to investigate closer. With another impulse, he turned with the intention of fetching Albus. The two impulses resulted in Harry tangling his legs around each other as he tripped himself and fell into the cabinet, slamming the door behind him. The only thing he managed to communicate to Albus was a rather shocked shout of the beginning of a word that started with the letter "F".

Harry saw the magic threads activate and speed towards the back wall as he felt like his magic was being dragged forward (a feeling he would likely have missed if Albus had trained his magical senses so aggressively). While the pull was different, it was similar enough in sensation to his Hyper Jumps that he knew he was being transported somewhere. While he was not at Albus's level, he had been trained well enough for his magic to react instinctually to danger. And he was certainly in danger. Whatever transportation magic was at play, was unstable and was starting to become… wobbly. Without conscious thought, his magic reached out as if he was apparating, to widen the tunnel and stabilize its walls. While doing that, it also applied elements of his Hyper Jumps to enhance the power of the magic transit tunnel within which he found himself. Without the many months of intense honing of his instinctual magic, Harry would have likely been in much more trouble.

With a loud "K" sound yelled from the surprised young man (finishing the word he had begun in the store), Harry crashed through a cabinet door.

As he fell, he curled into a controlled fall, and rolled quickly to his feet. Snapping his wand into its ready position, his free hand pooling with magic, Harry crouched in preparation to dodge or attack or run. The magic of the room was overwhelming his sight, so he switched to his normal vision for the moment (noting the direction the tendril led). He was in a location that held Tom's Horcrux. Who knew what foul abominations existed in this mysterious… rubbish dump?

His body remained tense, ready for anything, but a slight frown formed on his face. The room was cluttered with huge piles of… well… clutter. Tattered books, beat-up trunks, broken broomsticks, melted cauldrons, cracked crystal balls, a collection of empty Sherry bottles, and on it went. Why would Tom leave his Horcrux with all of this… junk?

With a deep breath, he nearly gagged. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the cabinet behind him, and it smelled like… well like if the troll from first year had decided to use the bathroom for the room's intended purpose. With a quick thought, he had a bubble of fresh air around his head and the smell disappeared.

"Well, now I know where that odor was coming from… wherever I am. Now, what do I do? Albus would want me to head back immediately… but, what if we can't get back and we lose our chance at the Horcrux? I mean… DAMN IT! Come on Potter, if you could take on a basilisk by yourself, you can take a few mounds of junk. And… you can probably try not channeling Sirius and stop talking to yourself out loud."

Harry really hoped no one had been around to hear him talking about Horcruxes.

Knowing he was in for a lecture later, Harry decided to search for the Horcrux while resolving to retreat if things got too dangerous. Harry kept alert as he moved towards the direction of the tendril. As he walked, he forced some magic into his feet to leave glowing footprints that would lead him back to the cabinet. Every few steps, he would look at the magic around him, focusing on the tendril. He had to make his way around the haphazard piles, while the tendril traveled straight through them.

After fifteen to thirty minutes (Harry was not sure about how long he had been searching), he found himself staring at a discolored old tiara. As clear as day, he could see one tendril of dark magic that was connecting directly to where the cabinet stood. Additionally, there the expected three more tendrils roaming across its surface. Without a doubt, this was the Horcrux. Obviously, there were a few more pieces of magic rolling across and through the tiara. Interestingly, not all the magic gave off an evil feel. Some of it felt… refreshing. For an unexplainable reason, the tiara's non-dark magic made him think of Hermione when she was sitting behind a tall stack of books in the library. There was also a thick rope of magic connecting the tiara to the floor, occasionally pulsing with dark intent (though Harry had no clue what that intent was, but it sure felt nasty).

He knew that Albus wanted to get a second Horcrux to be able to see if having more than one could help find the remaining pieces of Tom's soul. However, who knew what would happen if he tried to touch the thing? Harry had no way to safely transport the thing. And, while he knew Albus would be unhappy he had taken the risk of searching for the Horcrux alone, he would be much more unhappy if Harry took the risk of attempting to touch the probably cursed for an uncertain reward.

"Maybe we'll have better luck with the next one, Albus" Harry spoke softly as he reached to his belt.

With his new grasp of his unique magic, one of the first things he had done was apply his custom spells to his scabbard. He was now able to walk around freely with The Sword of Gryffindor, without anyone seeing it while it was in its scabbard, and it would only leave the scabbard when Harry intended for it do so. Even when Albus tried to dispel Harry's magic, the sword remained hidden and stored. The scabbard was shrunken as well, to keep it from getting in the way (though he still trained daily moving and dodging with his sword fully drawn). Albus was immensely pleased that Harry would be always armed with another weapon that would increase the odds that any surprise fight for Harry would be one-sided in Harry's favor. As such, Harry never went anywhere without his sword and wand.

As the Sword was fully unsheathed, the tiara's magic became erratic. The flow of magic became less smooth and started to spike in Harry's direction. The spikes increased in size as Harry approached. As he raised his sword to strike, a spike of magic flew out straight at Harry's face. As he automatically twisted out of the way, he wondered what that would have done to him if it had hit. Based on what happened with Albus, perhaps it was a way for the Horcrux to try to subvert his mind. He did not dwell on the thought, as he was too busy defending himself.

As he ducked and weaved past two more spikes, Harry rolled to the left and came up with his sword arm bent. With a smooth motion, he extended his arm and swung his sword horizontally. With a smile of satisfaction, he felt it hit the tiara. Looking to his right, he saw he had managed to slice off the top of the Horcrux. The basilisk venom began to work immediately, ceasing all the spikes of magic as it began firing directly at the area where the venom residue bubbled (presumably trying to defend itself from the more immediate threat).

Harry did not pause his actions as he noted what was happening. Now seeing it was safe to do so, he raised the sword and smoothly sliced down and through the center of the Horcrux. With a scream, Tom's soul piece went on to its just punishment. To be safe, Harry chopped eight more times until the screaming had full dissipated.

With a deep breath, Harry sheathed his sword and followed his trail of footprint lights to find the cabinet, leaving behind smoking pieces of scrap metal that used to be a dingy tiara containing the soul of a murderer. He would leave them behind to rot in this… whatever this place was.

The trip back was even more stressful. The cabinet's travel tunnel was exponentially more unstable, and Harry's magic just barely kept the tunnel from collapsing while he was in transit. As such, when Harry was spit violently back into Borgin And Burkes, the cabinet's magic collapsed quite dramatically. Luckily Albus was able to shield Harry from the damage of the cabinet vaporizing itself (along with a quarter of the shop).

Harry looked up at Albus, afraid to see the anger or disappointment in the man's eyes. Instead, they twinkled with amusement as the old man held out his hand to help Harry stand up.

"And you wondered if the Sorting Hat chose the right house for you. I look forward to your story, Harry. Whatever it is, I am certain your father would have been proud, as he felt any story ending with an explosion was a good one. Your mother would have been proud that you showed more skill than your father, by managing to be outside of the radius of the explosion which is a feat he never managed to accomplish."

Harry smiled in relief, as Albus looked over at Mr. Borgin.

"Balthazar, I'm sorry for the damage. If you would be so kind, send me the bill for the repairs. I will ensure you are compensated."

The man nodded numbly, as he stared at the destruction.

As they walked out of the shop, Harry whispered in a curious tone.

"Are you really going to pay for his repairs?"

Albus smiled. "It seems like the fair thing to do. Normally I would use my own funds, but in this case, after all the business he has done with Borgin And Burkes, I'm sure that Lucius would be more than happy to cover all of the expenses."

Harry simply rolled his eyes in response.