"Who do you think they were?"

It was just Harry and Matthew, sitting in the dorm room they'd once shared. It was the safest spot in the castle to spend time with his friend without arousing suspicion, as well as minimising the risk of Matthew being spotted by one of the students. There was every chance that they wouldn't go running to Umbridge out of a sense of loyalty, particularly if they were fellow Gryffindors, but they didn't want to leave that up to fate. Hermione had volunteered to get them some breakfast from the Great Hall, planning on using the morning before classes to catch up with one another.

It wasn't long since the destruction of Salazar Slytherin's locket, but long enough that school had recommenced, bringing an end to the holidays and a return to a heavy load of work. So far, Matthew hadn't gloated about being free from those shackles, presumably knowing that Hermione would launch into a tirade if he remotely considered celebrating his quasi-expulsion. Harry, in the meantime, had reverted back to seeing homework and lessons as a distraction from his main objective. He may have been able to put the existence of horcruxes to the back of his mind for Sirius' sake, but getting rid of one had only increased his hunger to do it again. And soon.

Matthew averted his gaze from the window, having been admiring the Scottish highlands as they turned red with the sunrise, and glanced at Harry. "What are you talking about?"

"The people that the locket produced!"

Harry had tried to bring it up straight after the incident, but everyone had been so dazed that Dumbledore had ordered them all to take some rest. Since then, there hadn't been a moment to discuss it. Hermione had gone back to her parents for the final few days before school. And, whilst Matthew had surprisingly stayed at Grimmauld Place instead of seeking sanctuary in his Tardis, Sirius had basically banned the topic from conversation. Regulus' involvement (and suspected reappearance, if Harry's assumptions were correct) had knocked his godfather for six and, for once, Harry had opted not to push his luck.

"Ah! The locket! Yes! It almost slipped my mind."

"You're joking, right?"

"We're talking about the horcrux that conjured up three spectral figures, aren't we?"

"Yes!" Harry hissed impatiently, trying to work out why his friend was hell bent on torturing him.

"Well then…isn't it obvious?"

"I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" Matthew asked innocently.

"Make me feel like an idiot for not knowing what all the pieces are in the jigsaw."

"You've had plenty of time to think about it. And, judging by your eagerness to bring this up, I'd hazard a guess that you've been pondering the subject since the day it happened."

"Obviously."

"So then…?"

"I was hoping that you'd run through it so I can see if our theories match up. You know, to make sure I don't end up sounding like an idiot."

"I reckon it's going to take a lot more than to avoid that fate."

Harry threw a cushion at his friend's head, who didn't bother to move. "If you're going to be like this…I'm fairly certain that the locket made Sirius come face to face with Regulus. All the Black family portraits were torn down before I moved into Grimmauld Place, meaning I've never actually seen what he looks like. But if the man I saw wasn't Sirius' relative, then they look scarily alike."

"The horcrux knew that it was about to be destroyed, failing in its one job to protect a piece of Voldemort's soul. It was desperate, trying to create some way of stopping us. I suppose it thought that being presented with ghosts from our past would be an efficient way to distract us. It almost worked too. I thought Dumbledore wasn't going to have the strength to go through with it."

"Same here."

"But he hasn't gained his reputation for nothing. He's got a good swing on him, to give him his credit. I feel as if my joints are already creaking a lot more than his are."

"Who do you think it was? The girl who Dumbledore saw?"

"The simple answer is that I don't know. The old man will have an abundance of secrets accumulated over his many years. There's bound to be baggage that torments him. I like to think that I know him fairly well, but I've never seen her once before. Not in real life, nor pictures or paintings. If she was that important to him, you'd think he'd commission one of those portraits to keep her spirit alive. But, if he has one, it certainly isn't on display.

"And…what about you? The other girl who appeared…she was from your past, right? Not Hermione's."

Harry knew what was coming next. His friend was the master of deflecting difficult questions, finding answers that suited him better. He would make a great politician if he didn't have that moral compass dictating his decisions. Matthew would give him an easy smile, make a funny quip, and then quickly move the conversation along. Harry didn't even understand why he bothered asking, knowing what sort of response he'd get. But, after over five years of trying, he hadn't learnt to give up quite yet.

"That was…Enola," Matthew said. "The friend I had from my childhood. The horcrux took the memory from my head in the hope that I wouldn't be able to be involved in her destruction. It was like the Mirror of Erised in that regard. Do you remember that? You saw your family. I saw…Enola. The horcrux didn't expect me to be so accustomed to her memory haunting me."

Harry didn't know how to react. Matthew's main skill, away from his magic, was his ability to put Harry on the backfoot. The number of times he'd done so by using nothing but the truth could be counted on one hand. His friend was laying his soul to bear without barely needing any prompting. It begged the question of what had changed in Matthew for him to suddenly choose a different tactic, to suddenly change his whole behaviour.

"Wow…um…I don't really know what to say," Harry admitted. "You're not usually this forthcoming with information."

"Yeah, well…maybe I've realised that I've put you through a lot over the years and I'm trying to make amends."

"What…uh…helped you come to this realisation?"

"Can't someone have an epiphany without being questioned about its origins?"

"Now you're just making me suspicious."

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't."

"Do you…do you want to talk about it? Enola, I mean."

"What's there left to say? I lost her. I had to leave her behind when I was sent away in the Tardis, the controls locked, meaning I could never go back and see her again. Hermione might have recognised her, though she hasn't mentioned anything, perhaps giving me the space to process what happened. That's just as much of a change in character as me wanting to divulge some details about my background."

"How would Hermione know what she looks like?"

"She saw one of my memories once. Enola was there, when we were nothing but kids."

"She looked older from what the horcrux showed," Harry said, feeling as if he was pushing the boundaries of how far he could go. But an opportunity like this rarely presented itself. "From what I could tell, at least. Everything was a bit chaotic."

"To put it lightly. I guess the locket tried to keep me off balance, showing me the version of her I missed out on, as if preventing its destruction would allow me to see her again."

"Did you consider it?"

"Stopping Dumbledore? No. I'm content with the way my life has gone, Harry, and I'll thank you for the role you've played in that."

"You're…welcome?" He'd shared plenty of mystifying conversations with Matthew but this was surely going to the top of that list. "It's a good job that you didn't stand in the way. With how frantic Dumbledore was, I reckon he might have taken your arm inadvertently if you got too close."

"And I like the way my limbs are attached to my body."

"I just can't believe that we actually did it. Not only did we find a horcrux, but we also managed to get rid of it within the same day."

"I'd warn you away from thinking it's going to be this easy for each one."

"Can't you let me enjoy this one victory?"

"Do you think that Voldemort felt it? When it finally gave up the fight?"

"Dumbledore didn't seem to think that he noticed when the diary was destroyed."

"Yeah, but he wasn't in a proper body back then. He wasn't in his right mind, if that's an apt way of describing it. After being reborn, his connection to the horcruxes might have been re-energised too."

"It's not as if he can do anything about it. He can't undo what we did to the locket."

"He could add extra protections to the ones still in existence. He could move them to more secure locations, hiding them under more spells and traps."

"We already know that he did that originally. Regulus Black apparently died trying to overcome one of those traps. Let's worry about what he's already done, rather than what he could do."

"Maybe you're right."

"I usually am."

"Where do you think the next one is?"

Matthew gave him a pointed look. "Harry, we literally just dealt with one a short while ago. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"But we know how to do it now! One swing of that sword and they're reduced to a smoking mess. We should be increasing the search, not resting on our laurels."

"I'm sure Dumbledore is already looking as we speak. And I'll no doubt be roped into that investigation."

"And you'll tell us when you are, right?"

"It seems as if I can't keep stuff from you anymore, so it appears likely."

There was a knock at the door, which was always going to get their attention. It had been a minor miracle that the other boys in the dorm had woken up early enough for them both to have this catch-up, but perhaps that was coming back to bite them. They'd put a locking charm on the entrance, in case the likes of Ron or Seamus barged in, but it probably wouldn't hold them for long if they were really desperate for something. Harry had avoided using an extremely powerful spell when barricading the door, knowing that would only raise suspicions.

"Get under the cloak," Harry instructed.

"That barely covers down to my ankles now," Matthew pointed out.

"You can crouch, can't you?"

"I have bad knees."

"Those will be the least of your concerns when Umbridge discovers that you're still walking around the castle."

" Boys ," a voice whispered frustratedly from the other side of the door. "What's taking you so long?"

Feeling rather embarrassed that he hadn't considered that likelihood, Harry quickly rushed over and removed the spell. Hermione marched through, glaring at him slightly for the show of tardiness. She was clutching a newspaper tightly and, by the looks of things, had been in quite a rush to get to them. Hogwarts didn't provide many avenues for exercise, explaining her gentle panting once she was inside.

"Where's our breakfast?" Harry asked.

"Forget that! There's something a lot more important we need to discuss," Hermione said.

"But I was looking forward to my croissant! I love those little pots of jam you can get with them."

"Somehow, I feel as if this is more worrisome than your empty stomach."

She used one of the beds to slam the paper down, revealing the front page. It was the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and it appeared to be taking a day off from warning people about 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. But that was only because the entire page was dominated by a large photo, depicting a creepy looking building. It seemed to be damaged, judging by the rubble around the top and the gaping hole that Harry doubted was a purposeful design feature. Even though he didn't recognise it, the sight of the few flying creatures surrounding it gave the building's identity away. Not to mention the giant headline fighting to draw his attention.

"Azkaban has been broken into," Hermione told them, as if it needed clarifying.

Something seemed to change in Matthew instantly, his entire demeanour shifting. His body grew rigid and his face turned pale. He slumped onto his bunk, sitting and staring at the newspaper. Harry knew that this was obviously bad news, but surely it wasn't enough to leave his friend borderline catatonic. He was too busy reading the expected quotes from Fudge to properly focus on Matthew, trusting that the other boy could work through his problems.

"They're saying that the dementors turned against the guards," Hermione pressed on, her bottom lip quivering. "Once that happened, they didn't stand a chance. The ones you can see in the photo were the stragglers, kept away by frantic patronuses before they left as well."

"Surely the Ministry would have strengthened the security around the prison," Harry said in disbelief. "After Voldemort came back..they must have known he'd target Azkaban. The number of his followers who must have been waiting for him in there…it doesn't bear thinking about."

"They probably never thought that the dementors could be swayed to his side. As long as they were there, Azkaban was basically impenetrable. But now…"

"Voldemort probably offered them a sizable lunch. We saw how much they're directed by their hunger for souls when they were at Hogwarts. Yes, they've got a steady diet at the prison thanks to the inmates…but even that can't compare to what they'd get now they're free to spread across the country. And beyond."

"I'll agree with you that it was arrogant of the Minister not to sweeten their deal in apprehension of this happening."

"What do we do now then? What does this mean?"

"That Voldemort is obviously amassing an army of his loyal servants. He must be planning an attack."

"Can't the Ministry track where the prisoners went?"

"Harry, they were long gone by the time extra forces of aurors arrived. They'll have apparated away, presumably to a pre-prepared location. The people who worked at Azkaban…the ones who could potentially have told the authorities where they went…I can't even say it."

"They're dead," Matthew finished for her. "If the dementors didn't get to them, the escapees would have been practising their magic for the first time in years. There's a reason why they're called Death Eaters."

Harry slowly nodded his head, grim thoughts occupying his mind. "What do we do though?"

"That's one fight we're not a part of."

"Of course we are! We're fighting Voldemort! Any follower of his is automatically our enemy."

"There are trained professionals hunting them down as we speak," Hermione pointed out. "We can deal with the occasional mystery at Hogwarts, but these are hardened criminals, Harry. If we want any chance of defeating Voldemort, we'll do our best to stay out of their way."

"For now, I suppose you have a lesson to be getting to," Matthew reminded them.

"It's herbology. You know what Professor Sprout is like if we're tardy. She'll give us the stubborn plants to pot."

"How can we be expected to focus on plants when this has happened?" Harry complained.

"They want us to be scared. They want us to read the paper and not be able to think about anything else. If they can disrupt our lives, they then gain the upperhand. So…if we try to ignore them, we win. For the time being, at least. Until they choose to attack."

"So we're sticking our heads in the sand?"

"Well, it's herbology, so you'll be sticking your heads in soil," Matthew corrected, wearing a smirk that didn't quite meet his eyes. "To be more accurate."

"And what are you going to do now?"

His fragile smile fell. "I'll head back to the Tardis and be on my merry way."

"I think a part of you is happy that you have this freedom."

"It's not all that it's cracked up to be, let me tell you."

"Where did you park the old girl?" Hermione asked.

"In the usual abandoned classroom that she's gotten used to over the years. It's a bit of a walk but nothing that a disillusionment charm can't help me with. No one will know that I'm there, I promise."

"Maybe I could walk with you until you get there. You know, to make sure you remain unnoticed."

"How could I turn that offer down?"

Hermione turned to Harry. "I'll meet you in class, okay?"

"I'll do my best to save you a stool," he grumbled. "But only because I don't want to know why you'd two be sneaking around the school, looking for an empty classroom."

" Harry James Potter , I'm of a sound mind to whack you over the head with his newspaper if you don't run out that door this instant ."

He held his hands up, his expression even more alarmed than when he'd first read the day's headlines. "I'm going, I'm going! Honestly, Hermione, it's a good job that you're on our side."

"If you keep remembering that, then we won't have any problems. But I don't see any running !"

xxxxxxxxxx

It was a strange experience, walking through the corridors with someone whilst simultaneously not being allowed to acknowledge their presence. Hermione couldn't chat to Matthew as they headed to their destination, out of fear of appearing insane to anyone who happened to wander by. She had to commend the invisible boy beside her for the effectiveness of his charm because, at times, it was quite easy to almost forget that he was there. Until he'd playfully poke her on the nose or flick her ear, earning a scandalised yelp each time that undermined her efforts to be quiet.

It was only once they were in the confines of the dusty, old classroom that Matthew finally removed the spell, revealing himself to her. She smiled at his theatrics as he twirled his cloak, as if he'd expected it to have disappeared accidentally thanks to the charm. The Tardis was standing there in all its glory, seemingly emanating a warmer glow at their arrival. Hermione felt sorry for the machine, being left on its own, even if it had just been for the morning. It was hard not to see the ship as a living, breathing creature, mainly because of its temperamental nature and stubborn pattern of behaviour. In those regards, it very much resembled its owner.

An owner who, Hermione noted, appeared to be acting rather strangely. It was like Matthew couldn't stand still, constantly rocking on the balls of his feet whilst he fidgeted with his hands. For some reason, he couldn't quite reach her gaze, only adding to her curiosity. When she'd come up with the idea to escort him back to his unorthodox escape route, the thought may have crossed her mind that there'd be an opportunity for a quick kiss before class, the sort of scandalous nature she would never have considered before meeting him. Now, it seemed that something a great deal more weighted was going to take place.

"Do you have your key to the Tardis?" he eventually asked, once he actually found the strength to look at her properly.

Of all the things she'd expected him to say with how peculiar his behaviour was, that had been nowhere near the list she mentally created. Hermione frowned, even if she should have been accustomed to the way Matthew acted. After five years being constantly side by side, his ability to keep her on her toes shouldn't have been so powerful. Perhaps that was why he was acting so shifty, the fact that they didn't spend all their time together anymore. Maybe the separation was hurting him just as much as it was her, and the prospect of saying goodbye left him awkwardly searching for ways to prolong the moment alone.

"Well, I keep it safely stored away in a box in my dorm room," Hermione answered, picturing exactly where it was. Sometimes, she'd take it out and simply look at it, smiling all the while. But she wasn't about to say that in front of him out of potential embarrassment.

"Have you ever considered wearing it?"

"What? Like a necklace?"

"That's what the string was for."

"You never mentioned it before…"

"I didn't want to come on too strong."

"Since when have you ever struggled with putting your ideas forward."

Matthew smirked and it was good to see him smile at last. "You're probably right about that."

"I might consider the proposal. Since it's you."

He pushed the door to the Tardis open, looking back at her. "I'm deeply honoured."

"Is everything okay? I don't want to say you seem a bit…off…but I'm saying exactly that. The news this morning seemed to shake you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know."

"And you're not just saying that, yeah? Because I thought we'd worked through your blatant inability to discuss certain matters, and I'd hate for us to take a step backwards."

Another smile, albeit surprisingly sound. "I'm hearing you loud and clear."

"Good."

"Can I just say, Hermione…thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For everything you've done for me. For everything you're going to do for me. I don't think I ever said it enough."

"You're…very welcome. Do you know that you're acting really weird? Like weirder than usual?"

"Are you surprised by that?"

"I don't think I'll ever be used to it, Matthew. But I look forward to spending years learning to try."

He stepped further into the ship. "I'll catch you later, Miss Granger."

"Not if I see you first, Mister Mormont."

There was one last look shared between the two of them before he finally closed the door behind him. Hermione didn't totally understand the emotions he was trying to convey, just knowing that there was an abundance of them in his enigmatic gaze. The Tardis began to disappear, the breeze picking up her hair, and she smiled. Again, she didn't really know why, believing that it was just the right thing to do. She tucked a now loose strand of hair behind her ear, putting it back in place, and walked away, for once wishing that she didn't have a class to attend.

xxxxxxxxxx

"I always feel as if I should package him up some food."

Harry and Hermione sat in the Great Hall for the evening meal, the chamber as busy as it normally was. It was a hive of chatter whilst students spoke to one another through mouthfuls of food, enjoying the opportunity to relax after a day of lessons. For Harry, it was a chance to tuck into a mouth-watering steak pie and a healthy portion of vegetables, all smothered in thick gravy. The plate was approaching emptiness by now, with the call of a second helping tempting him more than it should have been. But then there wouldn't be any room in his stomach for dessert, which would have been a crime to miss out on.

"He doesn't need looking after, 'Mione," Harry tried to reason with his friend who, as ever, was preoccupied by the notable absence at their table.

"You don't know that," Hermione argued. "We have no idea what he's eating, or if he's eating at all! What if Dumbledore works him so hard on this mission that he forgets a meal?"

"If I know Matthew, that's never going to happen."

"Still…I'm sure he'd appreciate a slice of cake. Or two."

"He definitely won't turn it down."

"I bet he misses the grand buffets more than anything at Hogwarts."

Harry gave her a pointed look. "Now you're just being silly."

"I'm allowed to joke from time to time. I can be the fun one in our group when I want to be."

He held up his hands. "I'm not denying that."

"Can you picture Matthew cooking for himself?"

Harry imagined his friend in a flowery apron and chuckled. "He'll probably use magic instead of an oven."

"The Tardis does have a kitchen."

"It does?"

"He showed it to me once. Not that he offered to cook me a meal."

It was Harry who noticed the approaching person first, though Hermione was quick to pick up on the sudden shift in his demeanour. Professor McGonagall was walking hastily towards them, skirting in between the long tables and not giving a second glance to anyone else. Some of the students began to discuss what her appearance meant, mainly because the usually pristine professor was looking remarkably dishevelled. Most concerningly of all was the fact that her eyes had a distinct redness to them, suggesting that she'd been crying.

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger…if you'd please come with me."

Harry immediately stood up. "What is it?"

"Not here, Potter. Not here."

If the transfiguration professor was aiming to be aloof, then she was succeeding spectacularly well. Feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach, Harry followed McGonagall as she marched away, Hermione following close behind. By the time they made it out of the Great Hall, the rumour mill was no doubt in full swing, wild theories being concocted about why they'd be summoned so dramatically. All Harry knew was that, as they started walking down corridors, Dumbledore's office seemed to be the only destination that was waiting for them.

Harry felt no satisfaction whatsoever when it turned out that he was right. They'd walked in complete silence, the two students knowing that any questions they had wouldn't be answered by the frantic professor until they were in private. With each step, he could tell that Hermione was feeding off that nervous energy, clawing at her fingers anxiously. He considered reaching out to hold her hand but it would have only slowed them down, when they wanted an explanation sooner rather than later.

Inside the office, the numb sensation overpowering his body wasn't almost absolute. It wasn't Sirius' presence that first alarmed him. It wasn't even Katherine and Peter Granger being there too, promptly wrapping their daughter in a tearful hug. It finally settled on Harry that something truly dreadful had happened when he looked at Dumbledore's face. In all the time he'd known the old headmaster, he had never once seen his cheeks stained from crying.

"Mister…Harry, Hermione," he began. The use of their first names only increased the panic settling in. "Perhaps it's best if you sit down."

He gestured to two available chairs but Harry didn't give them a second thought. "What's going on? What's happened?"

"If you just take a seat…"

"Tell us what's going on!"

"Harry…Hermione…I don't know exactly how to say this…but there was an attack on Diagon Alley earlier today. Matthew appears to have been the sole victim."