A/N: After years, I have decided to continue this fic, and have been polishing it over the last few months. If you're an older reader, welcome back! You might want to do a reread to check what's going on, since some things have been added.

This chapter is not for the faint of heart, and includes gory details on the process of making a horcrux (in my own interpretation). This isn't canon, and as far as I know, there is no official statement on how they're made. So TW: Infanticide.

Chapter 12: Secret Crowds

The Union meetings were going well, especially once the special-ordered gear from the Weasley twins were delivered. Daphne was satisfied with her investment, and it seemed the members were too.

"No practising today, Daphne?" Weasley asked, leaning on the table she was sitting on. The redhead had been surprisingly cordial to her, not that she was about to complain about it. From the previous year, she had seen his loyalty to Harry. She was happy that her boyfriend had that loyalty in his friends, and it almost hurt that she couldn't inspire that much loyalty.

The lesson for the day was the patronus charm. She knew that many of the members already knew how to cast it, but the newer members did not. Cyrus was having some trouble, although he claimed that his patronus would be epic.

"No, it's a sixth year charm. I know practice makes perfect, but I managed this last year." She smiled lazily. "It's nice to see Harry like this, don't you think? I know that he wants to be an Auror, but I do feel like teaching would fit him better."

"Yeah, I know, Harry's smarter than he likes to let on," Weasley replied, before turning to her, "So what's your patronus?"

Daphne thought about the moment Harry told her that he was in love with her, and flicked her wand. She had thought her patronus had been ironic when she first cast it, but now it made sense. A large, princely lion burst forth from her wand, and walked around her once, wagging its tail once, before disappearing.

Weasley's expression was a mix between awe and amusement, and she just knew that he was about to burst into laughter.

"And yours?" Daphne asked the amused Weasley. The younger man grinned at her, cast the charm, and a Jack Russel Terrier trotted towards her playfully.

Daphne smiled again, this time she was surprised. "That… Weasley, that suits you so well!"

Weasley's ears turned red at her compliment, but he couldn't hide the grin.

"Hermione teased me about it."

The blonde looked over at Granger, and saw an ethereal otter swimming in the air around her.

Daphne put an arm around Weasley's shoulders loosely, much to his surprise, and the Jack Russel Terrier disappeared. He looked at her arm, then shrugged and looked at the practising teenagers in front of them.

"Okay, something you need to know about your patronus is that it showcases your personality. So, Harry's is a stag. What does that tell you?" She asked, pointing to her black-haired boyfriend.

"He's a leader, noble, strong, courageous…" Weasley said, frowning, "But this is all stuff we know. So, what does mine say about me?"

"Loyal, devotion, determination, tenacity, playful." Daphne said easily, smirking at his expression. "You think less of yourself than you should, Weasley."

"You're good for Harry," Weasley said suddenly, "I… haven't been the best friend he deserves all the time, and Hermione showed me that this summer."

"Harry thinks the world of you. He accepts that you both have made mistakes, and friends do that. You fight, you make up, rinse and repeat." Daphne said wisely, "Blaise and I do that too. We fight, we make up. I call him a daddy's boy, he calls me a coldhearted bitch, we simmer at each other for a while, we move on."

"What does he think about your relationship? I mean… I don't see you spending any time with him. I don't really see you hanging out with anyone else besides Harry, us and your sister."

"Mr Weasley, is that concern I hear?"

He shrugged again, but kept an eye on her to show that she wasn't getting out of the question.

"I'm friends with Blaise, but we can't do sleepovers and go shopping. We study together, mostly. My father intended for me to marry him, and… yeah, no, I didn't want to do that. But I'm also friends with Tracey, and Cyrus is a hoot. If anyone asks, we're inseparable."

"He's a psychopath." Weasley said flatly. His eyes wandered to said boy, who was debating the correct wand movement of the Patronus charm with Hermione.

"He has his moments," Daphne said.

"Okay, analyse Hermione's otter." Weasley said next.

"Intelligence, resourcefulness, loyalty again, adaptability, and her own sense of playfulness."

"Luna?"

Daphne looked for Lovegood, and saw a rabbit pouncing playfully.

"Oh, that's just adorable," Daphne grinned, "Gentle, creative, aware, compassionate."

Weasley nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, you have a point. So, how about your lion?"

Daphne sighed, "Now you're forcing me to be introspective."

"Humour me."

Daphne lifted a playful eyebrow. "Besides the obvious bravery and courage - it is the Gryffindor mascot, after all - strength, power, pride and dignity."

Weasley nodded. "You know, leadership is in there too."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, the Zabini slut is full of leadership."

He gently took her arm from his shoulders, turned to her, and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I've learned that listening to rumours is one way to hurt the people you care about. You are not the Zabini slut, and Harry is not a dark wizard. You are Daphne Greengrass, and you think less of yourself than you should."

The blonde considered him for a moment.

"Well played, Weasley."

He laughed. "You can start to call me Ron, I think we just became friends."

. . .

Horcruxes.

When Harry had told her that Voldemort had made horcruxes, Daphne was nauseated. Of all existing magic, creating a horcrux was one of the most foul things a mage could do.

The process of creating it alone was enough to turn most away. Committing murder alone was tough, and choosing a receptacle was fairly easy. But the ritual involved…

Of course, Daphne knew about the dark ritual. Her father was a man with many books, many dark compulsions, but not even he would go that low. He had admitted as much to her, owning up to the fact that he was a terrible person, who gave in to the majority of his dark desires.

It was depraved.

Her father had told her about it in an almost casual way.

"You see, little girl, these dark artefacts are at the pinnacle of dark magic. It is worse than necromancy, the information of which has been lost for centuries, where corpses had been vandalised and desecrated. Horcruxes invoke magic far worse than death and sex. Once the mage has committed the murder, the ritual needs to take place within the hour, while the darkness of the act is still staining the soul."

"You see, little girl, this ritual involves ripping an unborn foetus from its mother's womb, while she is on the sacrificial altar, and the foetus then being consumed by the mage who creates the artefact. Taking the life essence from the unborn, absorbing the time and life that the unborn would have had, and adding it to the mage's own. A life for more life. Magic has no morals, it does not choose right and wrong, it merely exists and demands that everything be in balance, which is why food cannot be created from scratch; for everything created, something must be destroyed. Wizardkind was saved from an abundance of destruction by creating the banishing charm, creating a surplus of destruction, allowing more space for creation.
"This ritual… It is cruel, indeed. The entire foetus must be consumed before the mother passes, or the ritual will fail."

"That's horrible."

"I know, little girl. It is one of the most depraved things a mage can do."

Daphne shivered at the memory.

"Much more depraved, my dear, is when a mage creates a living horcrux. This, of course, means that the receptacle is a living being, most commonly their familiars; a feline, in most cases." He paused, introspective, and pulled a book from his bookcase, before presenting it to her. She took it, but didn't open it. This was for after this lesson, she knew.

"There was once the Greek mage king Skotarios who created a living horcrux in his own son, Nyktoros, after he had murdered his own mother, cut open his pregnant wife and consumed his daughter. His son bore a horrible scar for the rest of his days, but this is where it gets difficult. Because his son was the receptacle, he had a mental link to his son, and could not only view what his son was seeing, but invade his son's mind. He wished to not only take the life force from his daughter, but also his young son. Once the mage king's body would deteriorate, he would simply overpower the son."

"Father, why are you telling me this?"

"Indeed, little girl, why?" He scoffed humourlessly. "You should be aware of the darkest period of the Greengrass lineage, when Aeschylus Chloropoulos used Fiendfyre on his own father Nyktoros, due to the fact that his father had changed from a loving father to a tyrant. It would later come to light that poor Aeschylus had been victim to his grandfather's living horcrux, and had become him. Poor Nyktoros had been overpowered once Skotarios' natural body had decayed to a point where it was no longer able to function on its own accord. He was planning on doing the ritual once again with Aeschylus' pregnant wife,and Aeschylus was to be the new receptacle."

"Is… is that what you are going to do to me?"

"No, little girl. There are some things that even I will not do. After Aeschylus Chloropoulos defeated his father, he took his wife and moved to a new world. After generations, our surname became what it is. Chloropoulos means 'descendant of green'. While our family history has some admittedly atrocious periods, the story of Skotarios, Nyktoros and Aeschylus serve as a warning for us."

"So,a horcrux doesn't mean immortality in the traditional sense?"

"No, for the body remains mortal. Whoever makes a horcrux, needs a homunculus to transfer the soul fragment into, whether from the original body, or the receptacle."

"And Skotarios used his own son as both a homunculus and receptacle."

"Indeed, little girl. Do you now see why it is vital for you to learn to occlude as well? Poor Nyktoros had no ability to occlude, and therefore his father could overpower him. This story does not serve as some warning to your future; no, there are other plans in motion for your future. I also should assure you that I do not desire immortality, as I look forward to taking my experiences with me when I come to pass."

"Can it be made by accident?"

"A horcrux? I suspect so, though I cannot be sure. I imagine that when different types of magic overlap… the results can be unexpected."

. . .

Remembering that lesson in history did cause Daphne to think. Harry had mentioned the dreams and visions he had received from Voldemort that had ultimately caused Sirius Black's death.

Daphne stood and wandered over to her trunk. The book her father had given her at age 12 should still be in there, since she never bothered to unpack her books. She found it fairly quickly, an old book with faded green coverings. No title.

This was the journal of Aeschylus, her great-great-great… by the power of 20… grandfather. She hadn't paid much mind to it, since it was fairly old, written in a language she had a very rudimentary grip of, and marked a terrible time in their family history.

Aeschylus had also left sketches, and Daphne hoped that he had done one of his father.

Nyktoros had had a scar, though she wasn't sure if it was the same as Harry's, though that hardly mattered. If there was a fragment of Voldemort possibly lodged in Harry, she needed to help him find out, and find a way to get rid of it, without destroying Harry in the process.

But to be sure, she wanted to check. There was no guarantee that the scars would even look similar. Finally, halfway through the tome, she saw a sketch of a bearded, middle-aged man with the same lightning scar as one Harry Potter.

. . .

"Miss Greengrass," Professor Snape greeted her as she stormed into his office, "To what do I owe this visit?"

"My apologies, professor," She started, waiting for him to signal her to continue, which he did with a small nod, "I have something, but I'm not sure if I am grasping at straws. Is this room private?"

Snape waved his wand, and the teenage girl recognised the privacy wards fall into place.

She opened the tome to the sketch of Nyktoros, and handed it to Snape.

"Sir, this is an ancestor of mine, who, according to my father's old tales, was a living horcrux. According to the tale, Nyktoros' father, who made the horcrux, could see through his son's eyes, sent his son visions, and finally took over his body. I can't read the language, but the crux of the matter is that Nyktoros bore the same scar as Harry does now."

Snape frowned, leaning over the sketch. "May I?" He gestured to the book, and Daphne nodded, setting it down. He seemed to be careful about touching the book, first starting with a finger, before pulling it closer to him.

"It's written in Greek," Snape said, "I can't read it either, but if what you say is true, we need to ensure that Potter's Occlumency skills are at their best."

"Sir, Harry's Occlumency skills are excellent. I heard about the lessons last year, and I know they were a complete disaster. This summer, I taught him what I could, and I believe he may be stronger than he realises."

"Why do you say that, Miss Greengrass?"

She hesitated. "I think you should find that out for yourself. But first, we need to get this translated. Do you know any spells?"

"Unfortunately, I do not, and I fear involving someone else who is not in the know in the matter of the Dark Lord's trinkets, would endanger them. What did Potter and his friends say about this?"

"You're the first person I've spoken to about this. I don't want to spook Harry with this." She admitted, hesitant.

Snape sighed. "As much as your intentions are well-meaning, I would not suggest hiding this from him. Potter is not fond of being left in the dark, it leads to disasters, such as the one at the Department of Mysteries last year."

"I didn't intend to, sir, I wanted your opinion on this before I spoke to him."

"My opinion is that this should be translated, and I do not believe a spell would suffice. I would suggest the headmaster, though I believe he would have found the language quite… uneventful."

"You mean boring?" She laughed.

"Quite so." Snape lifted an eyebrow in mute mirth, the stoic man ever refusing to show more emotion that strictly necessary.

"All right, fine, but can I ask you to arrange a meeting with the headmaster, Harry, Ron and Granger?"

Snape's eye twitched slightly at her use of Ron's first name, but he didn't comment on it.

"I will see to it that we meet after dinner. Inform your friends."

Next, Daphne hunted Harry down as he was lazing at the Black Lake with Ron. Her boyfriend smiled lazily at her, while Ron nodded a greeting.

"Where's Granger?" She asked, sitting down next to Harry, clutching the journal.

"Library, probably," Ron replied, getting up and offering Harry his hand, "Daph's got something to tell us, let's go find Hermione."

Harry took the offered hand, eyeing Daphne and Ron suspiciously, "When did you two become friends?"

"Last Union meeting," Daphne said lightly, "But I do have something to tell you, and I would prefer to tell all three of you at once. This… is not going to be easy. This… is not going to be easy on you, Harry."

The dark-haired boy's expression shifted to one of interest and mild alarm, but he nodded and the two boys followed her. They found Hermione, a predicted, in the library, and traipsed to the Room of Requirement, which transformed into what Daphne assumed was a replica of the Gryffindor Common Room.

She waited until they were seated, and placed the journal open in front of them, the sketch of Nyktoros facing upwards.

"This is Nyktoros, an ancient ancestor of mine that lived in Greece. He was a living receptacle of a horcrux, and his scar matches yours," She said, taking a deep breath as Harry leaned over to see better, "I believe that Voldemort made you into another horcrux without meaning to."

"I think we need more context," Granger said after a few moments of silence. Harry hadn't said anything, and Ron was looking at him hesitantly. Harry nodded at Granger's words, his eyes fixated on the sketch of Nyktoros, and Daphne continued, telling them the story that her father had told her. She omitted the process of making a horcrux, because while the three in front of her would never have any desire to create one of their own, the knowledge was sickening.

"... and Aeschylus Chloropoulos used Fiendfyre to destroy his own father." She ended, waiting anxiously for their response.

"So… I might be a horcrux," Harry said finally, "Great, does that mean I'm not Harry Potter, and Tom Riddle, or am I both?"

"You're Harry Potter, at least for now, and your progress in Occlumency has ensured that you remain Harry Potter. My father partly told this story to me to help me understand why Occluding is important, because Nyktoros would have lived longer if he had the skill. So, you must continue to practise."

"What about removing it?" Ron asked, "It's an…"

"It's like cancer," Granger said, before promptly explaining what cancer is to Daphne and Ron. Daphne could see the resemblance between the two, a horcrux was no better than cancer. Only it could leave your body alive for as long as needed by the initial caster.

She slowly looked at Harry, who had slumped down in his chair, his eyes closed and a hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. He finally looked up at his girlfriend.

"You should just have let me kill myself. Then this problem wouldn't even be a problem anymore."

Daphne gasped, Hermione screamed, and Ron was across the room in a flash, his fist meeting Harry's face with a sickening crack. Blood poured from Harry's nose, his glasses broken in two. Harry looked at his best friend in utter shock, paralysed.

"Spare us the blues, Harry," Ron said, looking horrified at what he had done, but not necessarily sorry. "You are my best friend, and the only person in this world I love more than my own family." He kneeled in front of Harry, tapping his wand on Harry's glasses silently, watching as the glasses were repaired. "You are the only person in this world who sees me for who and what I am. I am more than just another Weasley to you, more than the youngest brother, more than some poor bloodtraitor."

He took Harry's head and forced the dark-haired boy to look at him, gently tapping Harry's bleeding nose.

"I'm not your friend because you're Harry Potter. I'm your friend because you saved me from myself, from self-doubt, from never making anything of myself. Because when we met, you shared your sweets with me. Because you wanted to save Hermione. Because you are the reason I got to know Hermione, and let me tell you Harry, I'm going to end up marrying that girl. Because you are good and kind. And you know what, Harry? I'm going to help you save the world, and yourself, or I am going to die trying. You are not allowed to give up, because, yes I'm selfish, and I don't want to live in a world without you!"

Daphne and Hermione looked at each other in silence, both of their eyes wide at what Ron had just shouted at Harry. Harry was openly crying, before he threw himself into Ron's arms and hugged him tight. Ron awkwardly pat Harry's back at that, then it seemed like Ron remembered that he and Harry weren't alone, as he slowly turned his head to look at the two girls.

"I envisioned I would have to give a speech to move Harry to tears, but I am not opposed to this." Daphne said. "Ron is right, you know, Harry? I didn't fall in love with the name Harry Potter, I fell in love with you. I have seen you at your worst, and still the kindness shown to me was… indescribable."

"As much as I would just love to analyse everything Ron had just said, I would like to focus on the fact that you also showed me kindness when we met. You're our Harry, our friend. We don't care about your name, we care about you. And as Ron said, without you, I never would have met him either. I plan on marrying that boy."

Harry laughed into Ron's robes at this, and the two girls surged forward to hug the two boys.

"Daphne came in a little later, but without you, we wouldn't have a friend like her," Hermione said, her eyes watery, "And we appreciate you, Daphne."

"Are we agreed that whoever we speak to, this isn't our secret to share?" Hrmioned went on, "This is Harry's. And he gets to choose who he shares it with."

"Yes," Ron and Daphne agreed.

"Thanks. I don't want anyone to know and look at me as more of an outcast." Harry piped up from the middle of them.

The four friends spent a few minutes in the embrace, with Daphne, for the first time, feeling accepted by Harry's two best friends.

. . .

Dear Harry

Those gloves you sent me were insane! I knocked him out in two swings. Won't you get in trouble for this?

Dudley

Dear Dudley

There are some perks to being Harry Potter, you know. I have some news. Would you be agreeable to meet for Christmas?

Harry

Dear Harry

Yes, of course. Christmas Eve fine? I promised mum I would be there for Christmas day.

Dudley

. . .

After the initial shock, each of the four friends took to their duties to find out how to either keep Voldemort away from Harry's mind, or remove him. For Hermione, that meant politely asking (demanding) Daphne's family heirloom to study and translate the language in which it was written, and find a way to remove it without harming Harry.

For Harry, it meant continuing his Occlumency lessons, talking to Dumbledore and some 'other adults' he promised to tell them about when he could, but he stated that telling the other three about it would take away the benefit of talking to them. None of them liked it.

"Harry, how do we know this isn't a Diary Riddle type of scenario?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed.

"It's not. I can't tell you, I really can't. I need you to trust me on this." Harry said. "It's something to do with a gift Sirius gave me before he died."

"Is it the Prince?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Because… I…"

"No, it isn't him either. I know it's a lot to ask, but I really need you to trust me on this."

"Harry, can you promise me that it is safe?" Daphne asked.

"Honestly, no, I can't. But it is one of our best chances to destroy this thing."

Ron, Hermione and Daphne shared a look, but quietly agreed that they should trust Harry on this.

For Ron, it meant asking his older brother Bill some well-phrased questions, and in the end just asking them to meet at Hogsmeade on their next Hogsmeade weekend.

For Daphne, it meant asking the other Slytherin heirs. Though she had no idea who to ask besides the terrifying Cyrus Bishop. But it was a place to start, and she cornered the younger boy in the common room, ensuring to place some privacy charms that Harry had taught her.

"Cyrus, what do you know about horcruxes?" The blonde asked, abandoning any idea to be tactful.

"Oh, a lot, why do you ask?" He replied nonchalantly, looking up from the latest issue of The Quibbler.

"What about living horcruxes?"

"Again, a lot, but why do you ask? Is it because of the one in Harry?" He flipped a page. Daphne stared.

"How do you know about that?"

"His scar is a pretty obvious clue," Cyrus said, turning the magazine upside down, "But I thought he knew about it and was keeping it around because it's cool."

"Why would he keep a piece of Voldemort inside himself?" Daphne shot back, "I mean, I know Harry can be a little shit, but he isn't attention-seeking."

The magazine slammed down and Cyrus looked positively giddy.

"That is whose it is? My dad and I thought it was one of his parents, but this…" He put a hand through his black hair, "Merlin… Okay, so I assume he wants to remove it? Because, and I say this with all the love in the world for our possible maniacal future ruler, Voldemort would have a lot to gain from a living horcrux."

"Yes, we know. So, does your extensive knowledge on the topic of horcruxes include any tidbits on removing it from a living one?"

"A few, but all of the information I have, is based on animals, not humans. And yes, I realise that humans technically qualify as animals, but none of what I know would keep Harry as… Harry. The potions I know of, would remove the horcrux, but would also remove Harry's ability to use the bathroom by himself. The rituals would destroy him, and he would need to create his own horcrux to survive it. I can ask my father if he has any knowledge on the topic, as I assume Harry isn't in the market for creating a horcrux?"

"I won't even mention this to him, because he doesn't have that knowledge and I would prefer if it remained that way. It just means that Voldemort is a sick man."

"Am I supposed to know that Voldemort has horcruxes?" Cyrus lifted an eyebrow,and Daphne realised that she had royally fucked up.

"No, you're not, but I'll talk to Harry about it. Can you keep this conversation between us?"

"Of course, my dear Daphne, what else are friends for?"

. . .

"Harry, I messed up."

"Hi, it's nice to see you too! Potions was a blast, thanks for asking, Hermione still hates that I can brew a better potion than her. Ron's also doing okay. Thanks for asking." Harry replied sarcastically, a huge grin on his face.

"This is serious." Daphne said, "I really messed up."

He sighed. "Was it Blaise? I thought you two weren't okay with the idea of an arranged marriage, though if his pecker is better than mine…"

"Will you stop? Cyrus knows about your… scar."

If they weren't surrounded in the Great Hall, Daphne was sure that Harry would have screamed. She was terrified by the ice that glazed over his eyes, at the emotions seemingly taking a backseat.

"He what?"

"I asked him about… well, like we said I would, and he guessed." Her voice was small. Harry closed his eyes again, perched his elbows on the Gryffindor table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He then pushed himself from the table.

"Daph, I love you, but I need a moment." He said, before turning heel and walking away. Daphne didn't think she was all in the wrong, but this was supposed to be secret. She had betrayed Harry's trust in a very fundamental way.

She decided to skip dinner and went to the Slytherin dormitory.

It didn't dawn until much later that Harry had said he loved her.

. . .