14. The Ministry

"Have you heard about Headmaster Dumbledore?" Hermione's brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "He handled some sort of cursed artifact, and now his whole hand is turning black!"

"Huh." Susan considered the news. "He'll have to go to St. Mungo's right away. Pomfrey can't deal with something like that."

Padma shook her head. "Maybe nobody can. Curses are bad news."

Harry was uneasy. His Head of house once confided that she'd asked Dumbledore to remove the lightning bolt scar, but he had refused. McGonagall expected he'd done so because it was the residue of a curse, but Harry wasn't so sure.

He was remembering the moment he'd felt so terrified because Dudley was cutting into his scar, yet, when he came to, he'd felt better than he ever had before! Yet Piers Polkiss, who'd been holding his head, had fallen sick and died.

Harry did not believe in coincidence.

Hogwarts library yielded no information, but the Black collection had more to offer. An ancient tome gave the first clue with a reference to horcruxes, and Sirius haunted the bookstores of Knockturn Alley until he and Harry were able to piece together the whole grim picture.

It made them feel as though they'd been dipped in slime, even though Harry was grateful he no longer carried any fragment of Voldemort.

At Hogwarts, in the privacy of his curtained bed, Harry used his mirror to discuss the situation with Sirius, the sole person aware of Harry's rituals.

"I can't believe I'd ever feel grateful to Dudley for anything!" Harry still couldn't quite believe that.

Sirius nodded. "Horcruxes…a filthy business! I think the bit in your scar transferred into that Polkiss boy, and eventually killed him! We need to discover whether there are more."

But Harry was not worried about other horcruxes, not when he had his rituals. He made a plan: he would use the displacement to combine all the horcruxes in one vessel, then destroy them simultaneously.

Sirius agreed that was the best course of action, especially when Kreacher produced an ornate locket entrusted to him by his late master, Regulus Black. It reeked of evil, and they were only too eager to get rid of it.

"We'll need to wait until you come home at Christmas," Sirius cautioned. "It's too risky to try that at Hogwarts."

Harry knew that his godfather was right; still, the waiting chafed him, as he was longing to vanquish Voldemort once and for all.

Dumbledore no longer appeared in the Great Hall. Rumors swirled that he was very ill and expected to die soon.

"Hogwarts won't be the same without him," said Susan sadly.

Neville and Harry exchanged glances. Neither was particularly fond of the Headmaster, and neither would miss him overmuch.

Still, when a dying Dumbledore sent for Harry, to finally reveal the prophecy, he was astonished at the boy's lack of reaction.

"He expected me to be shattered by the news," Harry told his godfather. "But I saw it as an opportunity."

"It's a way to lure Voldemort out," agreed Sirius. "But I don't like the idea of you confronting him."

"I have to," argued Harry. "That's the only way the ritual will work."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course. I tested it on one of Hagrid's nasty blast-ended skrewts. I have to be facing whatever I wish to destroy."

"You won't be facing anything without me! I'm coming too."

"Fine," Harry conceded. He had planned to go on his own, not wishing to endanger anyone else, but Sirius wouldn't hear of that. Still, Harry admitted it was nice to know Sirius had his back.

Dumbledore's death meant that the Yule break was moved up another two days.

The students were herded aboard the Hogwarts Express in record time.

As the train headed south to London, Daphne signaled Hermione to step out onto the platform.

"Harry is up to something," she told her friend. "Knowing him, it's something dangerous!"

Hermione was surprised to hear it. The two girls had had some whispered conversations in the dorms, and she knew how much Daphne was looking forward to the holidays. Because of the betrothal, Daphne was permitted to accompany Harry home—a plan that had thrilled her with delight.

Now, however, she looked anxious.

"Does Neville know what Harry has in mind?"

"I don't think so," Daphne frowned. "I don't even know whether Sirius does."

Hermione's lips tightened. "Keep an eye on him."

"I intend to!"

If there was one thing Daphne could do very well, it was warding.

Long before starting Hogwarts, she and Astoria had both been carefully schooled to ward their beds and their possessions. Despite his faults, Androcles was wise to the ways of Slytherin boys and intended to protect his sisters.

Consequently, before even unpacking her trunk, Daphne made an opportunity to place wards on Harry's door. They alerted her when he slipped out on the second night, and she crept out after him.

He and Sirius were in the kitchen.

"Are you sure Voldemort will show up? I know you tipped off Malfoy and Flint, but maybe…"

"He'll be there." Harry was confident. "He'll want to hear the prophecy, and then kill me in front of his lackeys."

Daphne's eyes widened. Voldemort? Prophecy?

"Ready, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher is ready." The elf held out his spindly arms, and the others took hold.

Daphne just had an instant to dash down the stairs and grasp Harry's shoulder, and they were standing in the Ministry.

Harry glared at her. "What are you doing here!?