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Pieces Of The Soul

There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he stared at Harry. "Seven Horcruxes?" he breathed. "I did not know such a thing was even possible." He leaned back in his chair, running a long-fingered hand through his silvery beard. "How did you come to discover this, Harry?"

"Ron found a book in the Black Library." Harry explained "It was full of very complex arithmancy – only Hermione, Moony, and yourself understood it. It explained that a wizard is only able to make one, three, or seven Horcruxes. Any other number would destabilize the soul jars over time, affecting the magical core of the owner."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore murmured, half to himself, lost in thought for a moment. "And quite dangerous knowledge, I must say."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his expression darkening as he remembered the losses they had suffered in their journey to understand Voldemort's twisted path to immortality. "The book also contained a ritual that could be used to confirm if the Horcruxes were stable or not. It was intended for the creator of the soul jars, but we managed to adapt it to our needs in order to determine just how many Horcruxes Voldemort had."

"Seven," Dumbledore repeated, mostly to himself. "So you confirmed it through this ritual?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "At the time, we knew of four Horcruxes, and when we performed the ritual, it indicated that the soul jars were stable, so we deduced that Voldemort must have created seven."

Dumbledore's gaze seemed to bore through the very fabric of reality as he contemplated this revelation. "Tom's madness knows no bounds," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "To fracture his soul so many times, to defy death at such a terrible cost... What does it say about a man who is willing to go to such lengths?"

Harry stared at his old mentor, knowing all too well the depths of Voldemort's madness.

Dumbledore shook himself out of his musings. "You mentioned you had identified four of the soul jars?"

Harry took a deep breath before starting. "First, we discovered Tom Riddle's diary." He gestured towards the top right drawer of Dumbledore's desk. "It's in there, with two rather nice basilisk fang holes in it."

"Ah yes, the diary." Dumbledore nodded as he opened the drawer, revealing the tattered remains of the black-bound diary. "That was when I first considered the possibility of Horcruxes being Tom's method of avoiding death."

"Then there's the locket of Slytherin," Harry continued. "We got really lucky with that one – found it right at Grimmauld Place."

"The Black Family's residency?" Dumbledore enquired. "How did it end up there?"

"Regulus Black, actually," Harry explained. "He was part of the Death Eaters, but he couldn't bring himself to follow Voldemort anymore once he learned about the Horcrux. He realised that no cause could justify creating such a dark object."

"Regulus – I always knew there was more to him than met the eye," Dumbledore mused. "A brave young man, choosing to defy Tom in such a way. But how did he come into possession of the locket?"

"Voldemort had used Kreacher, the Black's house elf, to hide the locket," Harry said. "when Regulus found out about the reason his master had asked for Kreacher's service, Regulus stole the locket, leaving a fake behind, and ordered Kreacher to destroy it, as he knew Voldemort would kill him to tie loose ends. But Kreacher couldn't figure out how to do it, so the real locket stayed at Grimmauld Place."

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused. "What of the next Horcrux?"

"Right, well, the third one we found was a bit of a shock – Voldemort's snake," Harry said.

"His familiar?" Albus asked, clearly taken aback by this revelation. "That's a risky choice for a soul jar, even for Tom."

"True," Harry nodded. "But we were quite certain that it was the last Horcrux he created, and very soon after his resurrection. We thought that Voldemort's magical core must have been quite unstable after his return, and the wrong number of Horcruxes could have tipped the balance, forcing him to create a seventh one in haste."

Dumbledore stared at Harry, his brow furrowed.

"I know that's a lot of assumptions," Harry said defensively, "But I was planning on killing the snake anyway. Can't say I'm a big fan of the thing."

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, his gaze growing more serious. "I understand your feelings, but do be cautious. The way you speak of such things...there is darkness within you."

Harry chuckled as he met Dumbledore's eyes. "Professor, after everything we went through, it's impossible not to have one's soul darkened a bit. But I won't let that define me again, I promise."

Albus' face betrayed his uneasiness. Harry could see the doubt etched on the headmaster's features, his furrowed brow and pursed lips giving away his lack of conviction.

"Trust me, Albus," Harry said firmly, "I don't want to go down that path again, I don't think I could, not without losing myself forever." The usually vibrant green was now dulled with a tinge of sadness. "But this is war, and if the price of winning is my soul...well, I'm willing to pay that price."

Dumbledore frowned further. "I worry for you, dear boy," he murmured.

The stillness in the room was almost tangible. The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken words and unspoken fears. The two figures, one young and tired, the other older and worried, seemed to be frozen in time.

"What was the last Horcrux you found?" Albus finally broke the silence.

Harry raised a finger and pointed at his scar. "The fourth Horcrux we found is this handsome thing," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but not quite achieving the effect.

Dumbledore's face paled as though someone had cast a Disillusionment Charm on him. Harry watched Dumbledore's reaction with trepidation, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Harry," Dumbledore breathed. "How is that possible?"

"Actually, Professor," Harry replied, a wry smile playing on his lips, "you figured it out yourself during my fifth year at Hogwarts."

As Dumbledore stared at him, Harry could almost see the gears turning in the wise old wizard's mind. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing.

"Following Voldemort's resurrection, you doubled your efforts to uncover the method Tom used to avoid death," Harry explained. "You learned about Horcruxes and realized that my connection with Voldemort had intensified. That's when you deduced that my scar was an unwilling Horcrux, created the night my parents died."

Dumbledore's expression shifted from shock to profound sadness. He looked at Harry as if seeing him for the first time, his blue eyes filled with concern.

"Harry, I cannot begin to express my sorrow for what you've endured," Dumbledore murmured. "To think that you have carried a piece of Tom's soul within you all these years..."

"Hey, it's not all bad," Harry interjected, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. "I mean, it's not every day you get to be a living, breathing Horcrux, right?"

Dumbledore raised his eyes to meet Harry's, searching for reassurance in the younger wizard's earnest gaze.

"It's not as you fear," Harry reassured the old wizard. "There's a ritual we can use to extract the piece of soul from my scar." He couldn't help but wince as he added, "It hurts like all hell, and I'll be out of commission for a few days, but it'll do the trick."

Dumbledore didn't look reassured, but Harry pressed on. "The thing is, having this Horcrux inside me might actually work in our favour. With the fragment of Tom's soul in my head, I can sense other Horcruxes if I'm near them."

Worry still lingered in the depths of Dumbledore's eyes. "Harry, you can not mean to keep that aberration when you have the means to remove it." His voice was hesitant.

"It poses no danger to me," Harry replied firmly "And I need any advantage I can get."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and gave a small nod of acquiescence. "Very well," he conceded. "I am not happy with this decision, but I realise it would be futile for me to press this matter at the moment."

"Trust me, Albus," Harry reassured Dumbledore. "We thought a lot about this, and this is the right decision."

Harry could see Albus wasn't convinced, but he continued before the headmaster could raise any more concerns. "Now, about the other three Horcruxes—"

Dumbledore's keen eyes saw right through Harry's actions, but he chose to let go of the matter. "Do you have any leads on their possible whereabouts?"

"We came across some memories of the Gaunt family, Tom's ancestors," Harry answered. "We thought one of the Horcruxes might have been hidden at the Gaunt Shack, near Riddle Manor."

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused.

"But by the time we checked it out, the shack was gone," Harry admitted, his expression clouding. "It's possible Voldemort destroyed it after his resurrection. If we're lucky, the shack may still be there in this timeline."

"I can't help but notice your plan relies on luck more than it is sensible," Albus warned.

"I never said our plan was perfect, or that this would be easy."

Harry hesitated. He desperately needed Albus's help, but he wasn't sure if he was doing a good job of convincing the old wizard.

Harry decided to keep going. "During my time as The Grim, I gathered some information that leads me to believe the remaining two Horcruxes are Hogwarts' Reliques."

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows rose in intrigue. "That would narrow the search considerably, but once again you are relying only on conjecture."

"I know," Harry conceded, his voice laced with apprehension. "That's why I need your help, Albus. I don't know if I can do this alone."

A heavy silence fell between them as Harry's anxiety swelled like a dark storm cloud, threatening to engulf him. He could feel the uncertainty clawing at the edges of his mind, gnawing at his resolve. The question hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable: would Dumbledore help him?

"Albus," Harry finally managed to croak, his heart hammering against his chest. "Please."

The venerable wizard studied Harry for a long moment, his blue eyes searching the depths of the young man's soul. "My boy, the dangers of playing with time are vast."

Despair threatened to crush Harry beneath its merciless weight. Was this it? Would he be forced to battle his old mentor?

"However," Dumbledore continued softly, "I fear I have failed you before through my inaction. I believe it is time for me to be wrong, so, hopefully, you can be right."

Relief flooded through Harry's body like warm honey, thawing the frozen fear and doubt that had held him captive. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving him light and buoyant.

"Thank you, Albus," Harry breathed. "Truly" His heart swelled with renewed vigour, bolstered by the unwavering support of the man he so deeply respected. He was happy to see that his mentor, his friend, smiled back at him.

Harry glanced out of the window, noting the inky sky overhead. Stars twinkled in the vast expanse, silently reminding him that he'd been in Dumbledore's office for hours.

"Blimey," Harry began, his voice tinged with concern, "We've been here all day."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Fear not, my dear boy. Minerva has a way of seeing who is in my office from her own. I'm sure she has informed your friends after you missed your classes."

"Ah," Harry said, feeling a warmth travel through his body at the realisation that he, once again, had friends who would be looking for him. "What should we tell them? And the professors?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment before replying. "I will inform the faculty that I asked for your assistance on a project today, and apologise for taking up so much of your time."

"Thanks," Harry said, nodding. He paused, furrowing his brow. "But what do I tell Hermione? That won't be enough to convince her."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, chuckling softly. "Miss Granger's thirst for knowledge is both admirable and relentless. You should tell her that I asked for this not to be discussed, hopefully, this will give us time to come up with a more permanent excuse."

"We should come up with something that will excuse all our future meetings as well," Harry added.

"Very true," Dumbledore said. "Now, you must be on your way," Dumbledore advised, glancing at a silver star chart on the wall. "Dinner will commence shortly, and the selection of the champions will follow."

"Of course," Harry said. "Thank you again, Albus. Your help means everything to me." He could barely contain his excitement at having Dumbledore on his side.

"Think nothing of it, my boy," Dumbledore replied kindly. "Now, off you go."

As Harry turned to leave the office, he paused, struck by a sudden thought. "Oh! Before I forget, ask Moody to check the Goblet of Fire as soon as my name comes out of it."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in confusion, but he agreed. "I shall ask him to do so. But, Harry," he added with a knowing glint in his eyes, "do try not to stir up too much trouble."

"Who, me?" Harry feigned innocence, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Never."

With that, Harry stepped through the door, leaving the Headmaster's office and descending the spiral staircase.

There was much to ponder and plan, but for now, Harry focused on the task at hand: surviving Hermione's relentless curiosity and the impending chaos of the Triwizard Tournament. One thing was certain – it felt good to be back.