Harry wondered whether Albus Dumbledore had ever been surprised in his life. The old headmaster was usually at least two steps ahead in whichever proverbial chess match he was competing in, meaning it was always difficult to render him shocked. Perhaps Harry's continued survival in the face of increasing adversity would have left him stunned, though he'd seemingly had a theory for that unexpected durability. Matthew's arrival before the trio had started at Hogwarts surely would have put him on the backfoot, before electing to help the stranded boy.

But placing the locket on Dumbledore's desk was the first time that Harry had seen for himself what a shocked expression looked like on the man's face.

It had taken time, as expected, to rummage through the copious number of boxes that had been stored under Grimmauld Place. Once they'd determined that there was a possibility of a horcrux being near them, they'd wisely enlisted Sirius and Lupin's assistance, just in case they came into contact with the inherently dark object. The side effect of that was that Hermione's parents had been asked to prematurely leave, with them a potential liability given the volatility of their task. Harry knew straight away that his friend was going to be bombarded with pointed questions as soon as she returned to them.

Which meant that she was probably grateful for the diversion to Hogwarts once they'd finally discovered the locket's whereabouts. The crate it had been stashed in was unassuming, a collection of artefacts that Kreacher, the Black family's former house elf, had put together, according to Sirius at least. But Matthew had been certain of the locket's true purpose. After interacting with Riddle's diary in their second year, he now knew what sort of magical signature the horcruxes gave off. They couldn't have gotten to the castle quickly enough following their success, wrapping the locket in a series of cloths, none of them wanting to directly touch it.

The protective layers now occupied the focal point of Dumbledore's desk, unfolded to reveal the source of their tentative excitement. Was it right to be excited, given the nature of the object's origins? Harry didn't care. This was seemingly the first step on the long road towards finally killing Voldemort for good. For the first time, he truly felt that they had a good chance of actually succeeding, when his mindset was usually dictated by the harsh realities that typically directed his life. If they'd been able to just stumble across one horcrux inadvertently, then surely some almighty, divine force was on their side.

"How…how did you find this?" the headmaster asked, once he'd regained his composure.

The office was probably one of the busiest areas of the school, since the majority of the normal population had gone home for Christmas. Sirius was prowling towards the back of the room, pacing in a relentless circuit. Lupin was more still and stoic, an observer rather than an active participant in the meeting. The trio were simply too anxious to sit down. It had been Matthew who placed the horcrux in front of Dumbledore, though it was now Harry who stood closest to it, guarding it, as if unknown assailants could infiltrate their gathering at any moment. Hermione had continually kept her distance from the locket, unnerved by the dark magic it was radiating.

It was Sirius who answered. "It belonged to my brother."

Harry was worried about his godfather. The way he spoke was harsh and cold, very much unlike what Harry was used to. He more resembled the man they'd first come across, left gaunt and hollow by his time in Azkaban, a man they'd thought they'd move away from. Ever since the realisation that Regulus Black had been involved in undermining Voldemort, Sirius' behaviour had grown to be more erratic. Whether he was able to contend with the emotional turmoil enveloping him was yet to be seen, but Harry wasn't feeling optimistic about his chances.

He'd actually suggested before they'd left Grimmauld Place that Sirius remain behind, his judgement too clouded by his family history. His godfather had promptly shut that notion down, claiming that he had to stay in the loop, as if a Black had to be involved. It was personal now, completing the work of his brother, someone who Sirius hadn't mentioned until the name had been brought up. As well as doubts about his godfather's state of mind, the unearthing of the locket had also raised the concern for Harry about just how much there was still left unsaid between him and his guardian.

"Regulus?"

That irked Harry. Because of course Dumbledore knew that Sirius had a brother. Of course that was information shared between two people whose relationship was best described as strained. Whilst Harry was left out of the loop, when they were supposed to be family. He could understand why Sirius had chosen not to bring him up. The past could be a difficult thing to discuss, especially one that had been as dark as Sirius'. Yet Harry had gone through the experience of people keeping important secrets away from him, those scars perhaps not as healed as he'd previously thought.

"He betrayed Voldemort," Harry explained, putting his personal demons to one side for the time being. "From what we can tell, at least. We discovered his journal in the basement, which then led us to the locket."

"Do you have that journal with you?"

Hermione stepped forward, reaching into her pocket and producing the small book. The headmaster gratefully took it from her, as resistant as the girl was to getting close to the object. Harry was concerned about her response to the discovery, particularly when she was normally so sure of herself. Her behaviour wasn't exactly skittish, leaning more towards wary and tentative. Was the dark magic getting to her? Was she choosing to keep her struggles silent, instead of openly talking about them? Maybe she was ashamed of her troubles, as if she believed they'd think less of her for finding it difficult.

"Are you okay, 'Mione?" Harry asked gently, using the silence created by Dumbledore's reading of Regulus' notes.

"It's just…" She shook her head. "No, it's nothing."

Harry shared a cautious look with Matthew. His friend was obviously picking up on the same level of distress permeating off the girl. It was easy for them both to detect. They'd spent so much time around one another that any slight change in their attitude blared like an errant alarm system. The two of them slowly approached, like hunters closing in on a target, doing their best to show they could provide comfort without inadvertently suffocating her with their presence.

"Hermione, we're dealing with some rather creepy stuff. It's not going to be nothing . Have you ever felt that you can't tell us something?"

"Well, no…"

"Then we'll understand, whatever the issue is."

"I can almost…feel it."

"What? The locket?"

"It's like the dark magic is reaching out towards me. If I get too close, I'm worried that it could grab a hold of me and never let go. It's…vicious…and inherently evil."

"I'm afraid that this is my fault," Matthew admitted.

Harry turned to him. "What are you talking about? You didn't create the horcrux."

"No, but I've made Hermione more attuned to magical auras. It's a by-product of our training. The more you come to embrace your natural magic, the easier it is to pick up on other energy signals."

"I can't feel it though."

"She's slightly ahead of you in the programme. Give it just a few weeks, maybe a month, and you'll start to notice these things."

"It's awful," Hermione said.

"The problem is that you've probably been doing this constantly for a while, Hermione. Every magical object has an aura, some more powerful than others. Once you've accessed that core of your own power, it's basically second nature to detect other cores. That's how I was able to realise that something was wrong with Riddle's diary all that time ago."

"You mean…you can feel this sort of thing all the time?"

"Well, I don't exactly come into contact with such dark objects very often, so it's a lot more manageable. But yes. You become accustomed to it after a while. When you first start, however…it can feel like there's a storm in your head if an object is particularly potent, different auras trying to grab your attention. You won't believe me, but you're doing amazingly well, Hermione."

"It's like it's…speaking to me. It's whispering in my ear, attempting to seduce me, put me under its spell."

"And do you know why that is? First of all, it's scared. That's a piece of Voldemort's soul, programmed to look out for itself and nothing else. That's the role of a horcrux. Self preservation. It'll be able to pick up on when it's facing potentially lethal danger, making that aura stronger."

"Like an animal making itself larger when it's wounded or cornered."

"Exactly. A defence mechanism, nothing more than that. Yet, if it's designed to save itself, it's going to search for someone who can help it. Someone powerful. Someone whose body is coursing with ancient magic ever since she first tapped into it."

"Why wouldn't it go for you? Or Harry? He's used more of that magic than me."

"That's debatable," Harry argued. "You used it under the lake last year, months before I wielded it."

"Who says it isn't also trying to target us?" Matthew said. "Harry isn't noticing it because he can't fully sense the aura. He'll be able to feel how dark the object is, of course. But it's not so visceral that he can practically taste or grab it yet. Me, on the other hand…well, if needed, I can dampen my senses to that sort of thing. If I couldn't do that, most of the waking day would be an unbearable cacophony of competing noises trying to get my focus. It's all centring the mind, which you've been working on for nearly two years now."

"Can you…help me now?" Hermione asked meekly. "I don't want to feel it anymore. And I don't think there's any chance of me controlling my mind at the moment."

Matthew smiled at her softly. "It'd be my pleasure."

He'd already moved so that he was practically standing next to her, but he closed the distance further. Harry wondered what he was going to do, not expecting it to be as simple as holding both her hands and guiding her to the as yet unclaimed chairs. Once they were both sitting down, Harry could see Matthew's hands glowing. At times, it looked like Hermione's were doing the same, their magic mixing and intertwining as she rested her head on the boy's shoulder. Whatever Matthew was doing, it seemed to be working, since Hermione's tense body relaxed somewhat, her stormy expression growing calmer.

"You said that the horcrux was talking to you," Harry began. "What was it saying?"

"I couldn't understand any of it," Hermione replied. "It was mostly garbled nonsense from what I could tell."

"I think we'd need you to decipher it," Matthew added.

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"I've never heard anything like it before, but I'd put a few galleons on it speaking in parseltongue. If you were able to embrace its aura, you'd probably understand it without a second thought. Then again, I doubt you'd want to hear whatever rubbish it was spewing."

"Mister Mormont's hypothesis is an astute one," Dumbledore said. "Seeing as this locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself."

Harry's eyes widened. "It did? I didn't want to jump to any conclusions. It could have just been someone else who happened to really love snakes."

Dumbledore was either brave or foolish enough to handle the object, gently placing it against the palm of his hand to display it to them. The metal casing glinted in the light of the office, almost making it seem like the decorative serpent was alive. Harry was prepared for it to strike as soon as they let their guards down. Matthew had spoken about the horcrux wanting to defend itself above anything else. Was it capable of using its design to its advantage? Harry had seen much more miraculous feats accomplished through the use of magic.

"We discussed, when I first openly divulged the existence of these horcruxes, that Lord Voldemort would seek to attach himself to valuable objects. Instead of any monetary value, he would seek items that portrayed his believed sense of purity, intrinsically linking himself to the founders of Hogwarts. It would seem that he found the ideal candidate when it came to Salazar."

"And that's definitely a horcrux. It's not something that's just…equally as dark, right? Because there was plenty of stuff in Grimmauld Place that felt like they wanted to harm us."

"As Mister Mormont so succinctly explained, this most definitely carries the expected energy pattern of a horcrux. The alluring words that Miss Granger heard was perhaps the voice of Time Riddle, a level of self consciousness that was also seen with the diary."

Dumbledore finally placed the locket back onto the desk and Harry felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. Without realising, he'd been strangely drawn to the object, falling under its spell, as Hermione had described. For some reason, he felt an affinity towards it. His scar itched uncomfortably with it so close by, only relenting ever so slightly once it was out of his direct eyeline. He didn't know whether any of the others had noticed just how uncomfortable he'd grown, hoping that he was able to remain cool under the unusual pressure building in his chest.

The sooner they got rid of the locket, the better.

"It's incredibly fortunate that you were able to find this so close to home," Dumbledore remarked.

"We should be thankful that Sirius didn't throw it out," Harry agreed. "During the cull of dark objects in the house, it would have been easy to throw everything on a fire, or something like that."

"I'm not feeling too grateful," his godfather countered.

Harry looked at him. "But we've found one of the pieces to stop Voldemort!"

"Yes, that's obviously brilliant news. But Regulus…he died with no one knowing what he did. No one knew why he died until now. I didn't mourn his death! I was happy about it! Another slimy death eater, sent packing to an early grave."

"Sirius…" Lupin said quietly, carefully placing a hand on the other man's shoulder that was promptly shoved away.

"No, Remus. I'm allowed to feel guilty. He never let on to what he was doing. After all this time…I thought I was the only one who stood against the family name. He was always the golden boy, the only son in my parents' eyes. I was left alone. Maybe…if I'd reached out…I could have had my brother again."

"I'm sure there was an obvious reason behind his deception," Dumbledore commented.

"Yeah, and you already know what it was, so don't pretend for one moment that you haven't figured it out. He couldn't tell anyone, in case Voldemort found out. He would have died a lot sooner if the Dark Lord had discovered he'd stolen one of his precious horcruxes."

"There was one person Regulus Black divulged his secrets too…"

Harry was eager to take the bait. "Who?"

"It's difficult to pick up on with how rabid some of the scrawlings are in the journal, but the handwriting changes as the pages go on."

"Meaning someone else started looking after the locket, started being influenced by it," Matthew said.

Harry nodded his head. "It must have been Kreacher. It was his box of stuff that the locket was with. Sirius, you said that he was the house elf for your family, right?"

"From what I can remember, his loyalties were their fiercest when it came to Regulus," his godfather answered. "If he was guarding the horcrux, it's no wonder that he became even sourer over time. Perhaps, once I returned, he sensed that I could carry on the duty, which was why the old bugger finally let himself die."

"It would have been interesting to discuss his experiences," the headmaster said wistfully, "before his unfortunate demise. But, alas, we can't always get what we'd hope for. This is already enough of a boon for today."

Harry was still trying to put all the pieces together. "I'm guessing the horcrux would have been protected somehow."

"It would stand to reason. As well as being almost impossible to find, Voldemort will have channelled all his magic in the pursuit of making the shards of his soul untouchable."

"If Regulus discovered where it was, maybe he got to it, but the defences killed him in the process. And, if Kreacher was so loyal to him, he might have been by his side and managed to get out with the locket."

"Explaining the copious references to death that fill the later pages of the journal. The poor creature was wracked with grief following the experience, no doubt."

"I almost feel bad for treating him so horribly," Sirius spat. "But if he'd just told us sooner…"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "The world is already a difficult enough place to navigate without also adding what-ifs to the equation."

"So…how do we destroy it?"

Harry was the one to ask the question that was hanging over all of them. He could immediately sense their gazes landing on him, most of their expressions wary. That was probably down to the hunger in his voice, which was so potent that it even surprised himself. He just wanted to be rid of it. The longer it stayed in front of him, the more tempting it became to just reach out and grab it, as if the most desirable experience would be to know what it actually felt like. He didn't like the part of him that was drawn to it, wanting to believe it wasn't a part of his true character, just a side effect of spending too much time in the presence of the horcrux.

It had already shown its adverse impact on Hermione. How much longer could the rest of them last before they started suffering? Maybe they already were. Sirius' demeanour was certainly much different to his usual jubilant self, even if that could be explained away as a natural response to recent revelations. Was the horcrux amplifying his sorrow, transforming it into anger? Dumbledore was definitely looking the sum of his years, the lines on his face more pronounced. And Matthew, so typically the centre of attention, was barely saying a word without first being spoken to.

Harry was suddenly feeling fairly self conscious under their collective gaze. "What?"

"Perhaps we should take a pause," Lupin suggested. "I fear that we might be getting ahead of ourselves."

"I'm sick of hesitating! I did as Sirius asked. I didn't think about them over the holidays. But now we've got one right in front of us! What's the point in waiting? The sooner we destroy it for good, the sooner we can move onto the next one."

"Have you seen what you've done, Albus?" Sirius growled. "You told him about them, and now it's all he can think about. He's obsessed. He's practically making it his entire personality! That's no way for a kid to live."

"I'm not a child! Stop calling me that!"

"Harry…" Matthew butted in, finally leaving Hermione's side. "Maybe it's best if we take a breather outside."

"I don't need to be mollycoddled. But it's nice, you know? For once, you're actually worried about me, rather than solely thinking about Hermione."

His friend's encouraging smile dropped in a flash. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That it'll always be the two of you, with me tagged on the side. That's the way it's always been. So run back to her and make sure she's okay. I'm fine on my own."

"You're obviously not, because you're acting erratically."

"Can't you see what's happening?" Hermione interrupted, jumping to her feet and standing in between her boys. She pointed a shaky finger at the horcrux. "It's that thing . It's messing with our minds, trying to turn us against each other. Just like Matthew said, it wants to survive. The only chance of it succeeding in that regard is if we fight one another instead."

"She's right."

"That's exactly the reason why we should get the job done now," Harry continued to argue. "So that we're no longer at risk of succumbing to it."

"You're also right."

"Sometimes I wish that I'd never put you three in this position," Dumbledore said quietly, his hands steepled together. "Seeing you now, robbed of your childhoods, contending with forces that most adults wouldn't be able to deal with."

Lupin raised his hand. "As one of those adults, I can attest to that."

"Professor, with the utmost respect, you just told us that we can't think about the different paths we could have gone down," Harry pointed out. "We have to live with our choices. And be just as decisive when there are other ones to navigate, such as with this. So…I'll ask again…how do we do this? Or is that something you'll choose to keep from me until the time is right in your perspective?"

For the first time, Harry could properly hear his own voice, realising exactly what the others had been trying to show him. He'd gone too far there, he knew it, lashing out at one of the people who had his best interests at heart. He wanted to blame the horcrux for loosening his lips, for unlocking that anger. But they were insecurities he held all the time, slight knocks to his confidence and trust in those around him that he needed to better manage going forward.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his eyes dropping to the floor. "That was uncalled for."

"But another example of the power we're dealing with," Dumbledore responded, seemingly unphased by the outburst. "It shows that, even with your mental training, there is a long way still to go before it is completely fortified from such dark manipulation."

"You're starting to sound like Matthew."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm hoping that's the way it was intended," his friend grumbled good naturedly, apparently recovering from the worst of the horcruxes effects at the same time as Harry.

"Is there some sort of special incantation that we have to use to destroy it?" he wondered, still wanting to put this behind him promptly.

"A heavy dose of pure magic could potentially override it," Matthew suggested in thought, tapping his chin. "Something that's even more potent than the energy of the horcrux."

"Could you produce that?"

"It wouldn't be out of the realms of possibility for you , Harry. Just think back to last year. You stopped the killing curse, the embodiment of evil, even more so than a horcrux. And horcruxes are made in conjunction with the killing curse. You stopped that with pure magic. If we were able to repeat the feat, the locket might not stand a chance. Or , we could throw it into the heart of the Tardis. That's powered by pure magical energy too. It'd be like tossing it into a wildfire. Of course, if it didn't work as completely as we'd like, we'd have some difficulty in fishing it back out."

"The solution, I believe, is much simpler than that," the oldest member of their group told them. "If you remember your actions in the Chamber of Secrets…"

"Well, I wasn't exactly there, was I? So I can't be blamed for coming up with something more outlandish."

"I stabbed the diary with the tooth from the basilisk," Harry said as the memory came flooding back. "That's what burnt up Riddle's presence."

"Are the remains still in the chamber?" Matthew wondered. "Because if it's still holding onto some of its teeth, we might need to go down with some tweezers." He looked at Hermione. "We could even ask your parents to do it, seeing as this is their field of expertise."

"Somehow, I think their normal patients are a lot smaller than a basilisk," she argued, a faint smile showing at his obvious attempt at levity. "Not to mention how sharp those teeth were." She shuddered. "It's not something I'm ever going to forget."

Dumbledore slowly lifted himself from his seat. "Again, Mister Mormont is looking for a much more spectacular method than is strictly necessary."

They watched as he wandered towards the wall of the office. Harry's gaze followed him until he picked up on the object of Dumbledore's interest: the sword of Godric Gryffindor. The blade gleamed against the candlelight, particularly when it was removed from its display. For an old man, Dumbledore was making it look very easy, wielding a weapon that Harry remembered was rather heavy. Then again, he'd been a scrawny second-year the last time he'd picked it up, albeit with Hermione's assistance.

"We killed the basilisk with that," he whispered in dawning realisation.

"Precisely. And thus, the same venom that protruded from its fangs was incorporated into the metalwork. Therefore, I believe it is now the perfect tool in tackling any horcruxes we may come up against."

Harry reached a hand out for the sword. "I should be the one to do it, headmaster."

Dumbledore's eyes glinted with a confusing mixture of sorrow and pride. "For once, Harry, I'm not going to allow this burden to rest solely on you. If you'll all take a few steps back…although my theories are primarily unsubstantiated, I would not be surprised if the horcrux fights back as soon as it's provoked. I may require some assistance in my old age."

He looked towards Matthew, who nodded his head, though Harry noticed that Lupin had also produced his wand. Being their professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, this was basically within his job description. Dumbledore picked up the rags that housed the locket, cautiously placing it on the floor whilst still holding the blade in his spare hand. There weren't many times that Harry had been able to see the Dumbledore of legend in action, but he was certainly cutting that figure now.

Harry edged back, Sirius standing in front of him, as much as Harry tried to resist having a shield. He didn't want anyone else to potentially get hurt in order to protect him. Matthew was doing the same thing with Hermione, keeping her as close to the wall as possible. His walking stick was in view, perfectly poised to create a barricade if there was any backlash as they feared. Harry looked at Dumbledore, who appeared strangely calm, even going as far as winking casually at the Boy Who Lived. He certainly had some style when it came to this sort of thing.

And then he swung the blade.

Harry couldn't tell whether it had actually made contact with the locket before the eruption happened. It was like a torrid whirlwind, kicking up any loose objects in the office and throwing them into the air. Fawkes squawked uncomfortably, flapping his wings and flying to a more secluded sanctuary. Harry wished that he could do the same, clinging onto Sirius for dear life, having to duck as knick knacks tumbled from the surrounding shelves, threatening to cause real damage.

The torrent was enough to hold Dumbledore temporarily back, his magnificent white beard and hair billowing wildly, presumably making the job even more difficult than it needed to be. Harry couldn't focus on him, instead surprised to find that the violent tornado wasn't empty. It was difficult to make out, but there looked to be people within the storm, or at least projections of people, slightly distorted by the ferocity of the wind.

The closest one to him and Sirius looked very much like his godfather, making Harry wonder whether he was getting his first look at the man who'd originally stolen the locket. Judging by Sirius' expression, it had to be Regulus, extending an arm towards them. The spectre was joined by a younger figure, a girl, focusing her attention on Matthew, whose face had gone pale at the ethereal arrival. As concerned as he was about his friend's reaction, it was nothing compared to Dumbledore's, with his body slumping as he came face to face with a different girl of a similar age.

For a few moments, it looked as if the headmaster wasn't going to be able to complete the task, his eyes burning with tears. Harry considered running over to him to help, to perhaps take the sword from him and do it himself. But Dumbledore's expression hardened, uttering some kind of apology that was drowned out by the gales, and he swung the sword down for a second time, cracking the outer shell. An unholy scream was let loose, the whirlwind became momentarily more violent, and then everything stopped.

In a mutual show of relief and weariness, they all slumped to the ground. Their hair was bedraggled and they would have to compose themselves once they left, lest they wanted to face some awkward questions. But they allowed themselves to enjoy the silence for a couple of seconds, some of them processing what they'd seen. Sirius' hand was shaking, but that could have been down to the force of Harry's continuing grip. Matthew was clutching onto Hermione as if she were a life force. Dumbledore no longer had the strength to hold the sword, the legend melting away to show the old man once more.

But in a worse state than all of them was the locket, laying scorched on the floor, completely lifeless.