Chapter 32: Progress

Harry Potter was losing. Badly.

He was up against an enemy he couldn't overpower. In fact, Harry was constantly in danger of having his own shields ripped apart and his own curses and hexes were being handled with far too much ease. This was not a battle he could win by blasting away at his opponent or knocking them back by sheer will.

He was up against an enemy who he also could not out-finesse. As much as he had learned from Flitwick, as good as he had gotten against even multiple opponents, the wizard he was facing was simply masterful, seemingly to flow around the battlefield and striking from angles Harry had not even thought were possible. Instead of calmly parrying and reposting magic with the tip of his wand as he had become accustomed to doing, he was diving and rolling desperately to avoid curses and was constantly feeling harried.

Sirius and Remus had tried to prepare him for the unexpected, but the wizard he faced was more devious than the pair of them together. His environment was used against him, with furniture sprouting legs and arms then trying to restrain him, and with splinters from floorboards dislodged from the floor with a blasting hex transfigured into needles that were then banished towards him. The very floor and walls of the room they were in had even come alive to batter and upend him.

But Harry Potter was not a quitter, and was not one to back down. He rolled sidewise and got to his feet with an athletic move earned from years of Quidditch practice, whipping his wand around with a blasting curse at the ready—and that was when a solid wave of water rushed in from a side door, sweeping him up to the ceiling, spinning uncontrollably upside down to splash down hard at his opponent's feet. The force of the fall jarred his elbow, and his wand went skittering away.

Harry, gasping for breath, hair drenched from the torrent of water looked up at his foe.

"I'm afraid, my boy, that is the end of our duel," Headmaster Dumbledore said looking down at him with an infuriatingly kind expression.

Harry reached up and the much older man grasped his hand and helped him to his feet.

"I think I did worse this time than before," Harry griped as he summoned his wand back to him with a motion of his hand and proceeded to try himself off. He found even that surprisingly difficult.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, noticing Harry's struggle with his conjured water. He gave his wand the tiniest flick and the moisture that had held stubbornly on to Harry fell to the ground. "I think, Harry, you are confusing the result with your effort."

That water attack could have killed him, suffocated him completely. It had been infused with Dumbledore's magic and once engulfed within it he would have had a difficult time extricating himself from it. Another lesson learned.

"The first time I was able to hold you off a bit longer, Albus," Harry replied. "This time I didn't even last three minutes."

"True, but the first time we dueled I used no transfiguration at all," Dumbledore said as he began repairing the ballroom where they had been battling. "And the second time I used it only defensively. This time I was nearly using all of my skill and yet it took some effort on my part to finally defeat you, which I will say, in my humble estimation, is quite remarkable."

"For someone my age," Harry added.

"For anyone, Harry. For anyone," the Headmaster responded, not above a little hubris. "I can see that you've incorporated much of my instruction into your approach. You're an excellent student, my boy, and already a fine wizard. I particularly liked that table leg you transfigured into a cobra and sent to attack me from behind."

"You Vanished it, sir," Harry replied, still a bit glum from how handily he'd been defeated. "And it wouldn't work against Voldemort since he's a Parselmouth, too."

"True," the elderly wizard answered. "I think next time you will make it more difficult for your constructs to be so easily dismissed, even if you only intend them as a distraction. And while a snake is perhaps not the best form for a golem intended to take down Tom, your use of your strengths against me shows the proper mindset you will need to beat him."

The ballroom set back in order, Dumbledore and Harry began walking out together. When not completely devastated by curses and hexes, the largest room in the Mould-on-Wold Dumbledore estate was a fine place for hosting events. It was a shame that it had lain unused since death of Albus's father.

As the pair were about to leave the large room, Harry turned to his mentor. "Thank you for the lesson, Professor," Harry said, holding up a finger to forestall the older man from reminding him to use his given name. "When you're acting as my teacher, I think it's only right to call you such."

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "Point well taken. Shall we proceed then to your Occlumency lesson, then, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was about give the man a big grin and a cheeky retort when images flashed through his head and his scar started throbbing painfully. Harry reflexively put his hand to his scar and immediately started applying the mind arts to protect himself.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with mild concern.

Outside the doorway to the ballroom, Dumbledore quickly transfigured an ornamental chiffonier into a comfortable recliner for Harry to sit on. He frowned as the boy sat down, wincing as the pain redoubled. Then, Harry's face relaxed and his hand moved away from his scar.

"I'm alright, Albus," he replied. "I think….I think Tom has become aware of our mental connection. This feels like he's trying to probe through the connection with Legilimency, but it's not working. He's frustrated…but I sense there's a hidden emotion as well."

"He's still trying to break through the connection, through the piece of soul left inside of me, but there's no danger. I can seal off that part from the rest of me easily enough."

Dumbledore frowned. "I was afraid of this. Your visions have managed to give the Order and the Ministry a great advantage over the past several months. Unfortunately, from now on everything you see in these visions must be viewed as highly suspect."

Harry frowned. His glimpses into Voldemort's plans and even occasional visions of where he had been and what he had been of extremely valuable. He was loathe to give up something so clearly beneficial and lifesaving. Still, it wouldn't do to send the Order or aurors into a trap. However…

"I know we can't be sure if future visions are a trick or not, but hear me out. If Voldemort doesn't know that we know that he knows about the connection, maybe we can use that to fool him instead?"

"An excellent suggestion, my boy!" Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes.

Weasley Seer

Grimmauld Place was a very different place to what it had been when Harry had first moved in with Sirius. It had taken quite a while to undo what years of disuse and neglect had done to the place, but with Harry living there, Sirius had good cause to motivate Kreacher to make it a home. The old house-elf had gotten even more motivation once Dobby had shown up and Harry had, with some amusement, offered him employment during the time that Hogwarts was closed. It had become something of a competition, Kreacher working to restore the ancient glory of the House of Black and Dobby wanting to please the 'Great Harry Potter' out of personal loyalty.

There were no longer any places in the house where doxies or boggarts might lurk, and the more dangerous objects and books had been disposed of or put away. In fact, where even not too long ago during the reorganization of the Order of the Phoenix there had been a mild pall and gloom that still hung in the air in the less commonly used rooms, there was now a feeling of lightness and cheer throughout the home. This was amplified by the gaily colored streamers that undulated around the drawing room, the brightly colored gifts set on the table, and the semi-harmonious sound of his friends and mentors singing.

Harry couldn't help himself. He grinned like a fool.

Ever since Sirius had been exonerated and Harry had moved in with his godfather, he'd celebrated his birthday and every holiday in style. And it never got old. After thirteen years of being denied such joys while being forced to watch his cousin's wanton consumption, it was the fact that he was receiving the love that made these occasions so sweet to him.

"And this one is from Professor Dumbledore," Remus Lupin said with a warm smile as he handed a present wrapped in periwinkle tissue over to Harry.

The tissue came undone easily beneath Harry's prying fingers to reveal a royal blue pentagonal box with golden brocade all around. With a bemused look on his face Harry looked up from his small pile of presents in front of him to the Headmaster who was sitting on the opposite side of the drawing room. The man had an inscrutable look on his face. Dumbledore had given him a Honeyduke's Chocolate Frog Card box?

"Thanks, Albus," Harry offered.

"Mate, like you need another one!" Ron said. "You've only got the whole collection three times over!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "It's the thought that counts."

"And, well, you can never have too many," Harry added cheerfully. "You never know if you'll get one of the rarer ones." Harry quickly opened the box, snatching the chocolate frog from out of the air mid-leap. The chocolate he split with Ron and Hermione, and then he pulled the collectible card from the box.

"Well, Harry, who did you get?" Sirius asked, a tad too innocently.

Harry didn't answer. He was too busy gaping like a fish.

"Merlin's hat!" Ron exclaimed. "It's a Harry Potter: Triwizard Champion card! You've got your own Chocolate Frog card! You're like, officially, really famous now!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, Harry's not famous for being on the Chocolate Frog card, he's on the Chocolate Frog card because he's famous."

"I thought you might enjoy having the first one of the new edition, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Unfortunately, the rules of the Triwizard Tournament allow for your likeness to be used for publicity without needing your or the school's consent, which may offend both your sense of modesty and fairness, but I dare say the honor is richly deserved."

"Hear, hear!" Arthur Weasley loudly proclaimed and every glass of butterbeer in the room, save Harry's own, was lifted into the air in agreement.

There were a few more presents for Harry to open, an amazing witch-made cake from Mrs. Weasley and some of Florean Fortescue's ice cream to eat, and then there was the ceremonial casting of rictumsempra on the birthday boy, which Sirius and Remus both solemnly swore was a real, actual, not at all made-up wizarding birthday tradition. Harry swore his revenge through fits of laughter, and then the guests began to leave one-by-one, each wishing him a happy sixteenth birthday.

Once the group was down to just six, Sirius pulled out one final gift.

"This one, Harry," Sirius announced, "is from Remus, Hermione, and myself. And no small contribution from James, posthumously."

A leather-bound tome the size of a sea chart was laid on the drawing room table in front of Harry.

"We proudly present," Hermione said, gesturing to the over-sized book.

"Tom Riddles Guide to the Missing Parts of His Soul," the three said in unison.

"Marvelous!" Dumbledore said as he quickly examined the object in front of him. "Miss Granger, you should consider repeating this project, though with a far less verboten topic, as part of your NEWT studies. It would most assuredly be worthy of top marks."

Harry was no less impressed by his godfather's and friends' ingenuity. He was also touched that his father's previous work on the Marauder's map had played such a major role in the creation of this item.

"So, how does it work?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione explained, taking the familiar role of expositor of knowledge, "it will require a piece of the whole of something to be found, in this case, Voldemort's soul. It will need to be placed on the cover of the book inside the visible runes. Though, how we're supposed to get a piece of that sould out of you, I'm not really sure."

Harry nodded. "No worries. I've already considered that and the solution is actually simple: Memories are an aspect of the soul."

He touched the tip of his wand to his scar and slowly, carefully, pulled a thin inky strand from the lightning mark on his forehead. The black substance wriggled and writhed on the edge of his wand before he carefully placed it on the center of the book cover. There was a sudden jerking of the object, but then the cursed memory sank into the tome.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

Remus examined the book briefly, then nodded, satisfied that the map book would work as designed. "You'll need to place your hand on the map you wish to check and say, 'locus revelio' which will reveal if there is a connected horcrux anywhere in that area of the world. After that, well, it depends on the results and if a horcrux is located in a place mapped out here."

Harry took the large tome and opened it to the first page, which was a highly detailed world map.

"Locus revelio!"

It took a few seconds, but immediately a large red dot formed directly over Great Britain. This was no surprise. What was a little surprising was that no other dots appeared in any other location. Harry was about to flip the page, but before he even touched it, the pages turned of their own accord to a map of England, Scotland, and Wales. Harry put his hand on the page and almost instantly several dots appeared. One large one was over London, a smaller one was located somewhere in Yorkshire, and yet another was in south-west part of England, Wiltshire if Harry wasn't mistaken, and a final one was located in Scotland.

Sirius whistled. "Four. That's most of them."

"We'll have to define the maps for the ones not in London," Hermione said. "We have blank pages all prepared for once we narrow down the other locations. We only included London area because magical maps were already available. If you touch the location dot, it will take you to the corresponding page."

Harry touched the London dot and several pages flipped, revealing a map of the city and surrounding areas. Harry put his hand on the page and two dots appeared, very close together, both in central London. Again the pages turned and now the two dots appeared significantly further apart.

"It looks like one of them is located somewhere in either Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley," Remus remarked, pointing to the dot near Charing Cross.

Harry nodded and touched that one. When he touched the page, there was an audible gasp.

"Gringotts," Dumbledore remarked. "That will prove to be quite a challenge."

"Right, well, first let's see about the other one in London. Maybe it will be easier," Harry said hopefully.

He flipped the page back to the larger London city map and put his finger on the dot there. The map book flipped to a map showing a section of the city Harry found quite familiar: the area around King's Cross station.

"He wouldn't have put one on Platform 9 ¾ would he?" Harry asked. "That would be too likely for someone to just stumble on it, wouldn't it?"

When Harry touched the page, his doubt was proved correct. Indeed, the dot corresponding to the horcrux location was in a section several blocks over. Harry tapped the dot and the pages turned to the Islington borough, but this time when he touched the map, no dot showed up.

"That's odd," Harry remarked. "It showed us exactly where the horcrux was when it was in Gringotts. Why wouldn't this one show up on the page?"

"Harry," Hermione said, pointing to a particular street on the map, "I think it's because the place the horcrux is located is Unplottable."

Harry slapped himself on the forehead. "Of course. Because it's right here, in Grimmauld Place." He gave a sigh. "Me."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry, it can't be. That was the first obstacle we had to overcome when designing the map. We had to exclude the horcrux in your scar or else it would obscure any results. There has to be another horcrux here, in your and Sirius's home."

Sirius sucked in his breath. He had always known his family had a dark tradition but he hadn't suspected them of actually housing one of Voldemort's horcruxes.

Remus frowned. "I find this just a bit odd. I know you've cleaned this house top to bottom trying to rid it of every cursed or dark object that you could. I'm sure you would have uncovered it by now."

"Personally, I hope it's the portrait of my mother, Walburga," Sirius said with a grin. "I say we burn it off with Fiendfyre, just to be sure."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore suggested, "it was not found because it was intentionally hidden from you. Someone you perhaps would not notice."

An angry glint appeared in Sirius's eyes. "Kreacher!" he called.

There was a small popping sound and the aged house-elf appeared, an unhappy scowl on his face. "The ungrateful blood-traitor master calls?"

Sirius fixed the diminutive elf with a harsh stare. "Tell me, Kreacher, and do not lie or attempt to hide the truth. Have you been trying to withhold certain dark objects from me, keeping them out of sight?"

At Sirius's request, the house-elf's eyes bugged out and he began to twist his own ears, a strangled sound coming from his throat. "Y-yess," he answered.

"Where?" Sirius demanded.

Again, Kreacher convulsed as he attempted to resist the compulsion demanding that he obey Sirius's order.

There was another pop, and then Dobby, proudly wearing one of Harry's socks, appeared in front of the group. "Dobby knows!" he proclaimed. "Kreacher is being a bad elf! Hiding dark magic from the great Harry Potter and Harry Potter's noble godfather! Dobby will show you!"

That broke Kreacher out his struggle, a growl escaping from the misshapen creature's mouth. "You will not be taking Master Regulus's locket! You bad elf!" And then he snapped his finger, causing Dobby to be knocked backwards.

Harry quickly went to Dobby's side, helping the small creature up. "Are you okay, Dobby?" At the house-elf's grateful nod, Harry then turned angrily to Kreacher. "Do not attack my friend, Kreacher!"

At that, Kreacher's face was filled with shock and Dobby went into hysterics over being declared Harry's friend. That a wizard would consider a house-elf a friend...it was unfathomable to either elf.

"Kreacher, you will bring the locket here and you will do nothing to prevent us from destroying it, do you hear me?" Sirius ordered.

A that Kreacher went stock still, looking up at Sirius as if he had never before seen him. "Master Sirius will destroy Master Regulus's locket? Master Sirirus knows how?"

"Yes," Sirius snarled, "We are going to destroy it. Now bring it here!"

And then Kreacher surprised Sirius. He bowed to him. Not mockingly. Not in a forced manner, but sincerely and respectfully.

Kreacher retrieved the locket and then Harry took the Sword of Gryffindor, which Dumbledore provided, and stabbed the thing. It was not such a simple task, as the locket attempted to defend itself with illusory threats and promises, but Harry found brushing such attempts at compulsion child's play to brush off. In the end, all that was left of the horcrux was a hunk of useless metal lying in the middle of the floor.

Weasley Seer

After hearing a newly cooperative Kreacher's tale of how he had been tasked with destroying the locket by his former master, Sirius was left feeling pained at the loss of his brother and retreated upstairs to revisit Regulus's old room. Hermione, Remus, and Ron all departed on their own leaving Dumbledore alone with Harry to discuss plans for the future efforts to destroy the remaining horcruxes.

"Did you sense anything through your scar?" Dumbledore asked. "Was there any reaction from Tom?"

Harry shook his head. There had been nothing. No sense at all that Voldemort had realized what had happened. The loss of that fragment of his soul had not set off any alarm in the dark wizard. This would make the rest of their plan that much easier.

"Very good, Harry, very good."

Harry was quiet for a few seconds as he looked at the wizened wizard whose white beard reached down to his belly. He'd had a thought after one of their increasingly frequent training sessions and it had stuck with him.

"Something troubling you, Harry?" the Headmaster asked.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry replied after a short pause. "There's something I want to ask, but I'm afraid it might be….rude."

"Ah. An indelicate topic. Please, Harry, do ask your question. I will endeavor to not be offended by whatever it is you want to ask me."

Harry quickly drew an intake of breath, then began. "Well, sir, after dueling both you and Vold—Tom Riddle, even though my battle with him was for a much shorter time—well it seems to me that you're more than a little stronger than him. And better…"

"So, you want to know why it is that I am not the one who will face him," Dumbledore supplied.

"Well, yes, exactly," Harry said, feeling chagrined to even broach the subject. "Everyone says that you're the one person Tom fears, which would be such an advantage. And you are just magically strong. I can feel that. You'd win. I'm sure of it."

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "I am afraid, that I am perhaps, something of a coward, Harry."

Harry Potter was dumbstruck by that declaration. He looked at the elderly wizard for several seconds before shaking his head. "No, I don't believe it. I've seen you fight Voldemort twice already, and you weren't cowardly at all."

"Oh, that is true," the Headmaster of Hogwarts replied. "I am not afraid of fighting Tom. Not at all. Indeed, I've faced Tom Riddle seventeen times now, at my count and each time he has been forced to flee." Dumbledore spoke with no trace of pride at that. "I am not cowardly in that I am afraid of dying, that would be a great adventure! What I am afraid of is killing. It…isn't in me to do it. Not ever again."

Harry frowned. "But…you defeated Gindelwald."

"Locked away. At the height of his power, he threatened the world, and yet I could not bring myself to destroy him. It was fortunate that he was loathe to destroy me as well, or I might not have been able to subdue him.

"Remember, Harry, back to your first year at Hogwarts? When you stood in front of the Mirror of Erised and asked me what it was that I saw?"

Harry, of course, remembered. "You said socks."

"Yes, but I never told you what those socks meant. Or who else was in that reflection."

And so, Dumbledore told Harry all about his sister, Ariana, about his attraction to Gellert Gindelwald and the man's ambitions, and about the tragic accident that made Dumbledore unable to use magic to kill anyone or anything. He poured out his heart in the story, and apologized again to Harry for letting his parents die.

"If it were not for my cowardice, Harry, I would have stopped Tom from committing so may dark deeds, so many murders. Had I been strong enough, I would have ended the threat of 'Voldemort' long ago, long before your parents lost their lives to his murderous appetite."

Harry wanted to object that he wasn't a killer either, but then he remembered all the times he had been forced to destroy. There was the troll in their first year, then Quirrel. After that he'd killed the basilisk and a memory of Tom Riddle, essentially killing a piece of him. Since then he'd blasted Death Eaters with hexes that could tear them to pieces, even though his aim was always to stun and incapacitate. Yes, he could kill if he had to. If the lives of people were at stake, he could do it.

But it was not something he loved, and when he looked at Albus Dumbledore, he didn't see a coward, but someone who abhorred the loss of life. Even an enemy's. And he felt that if this was a fault at all, it was not worth blaming.

After a moment, Harry put his arm around the Headmaster of Hogwarts and gave him a big hug.

"You know what, Albus? Of all your failings, of all the things that you did to burden me or others, intentional or not, I'm the most okay with this one."

Author's Note

We're coming closer and closer to the end!

Poll: Which of the following characters would vote to die in the next chapter:

Sirius, Remus, Arthur, Molly, or Alastor Moody.