"Knight, C4"

A small white knight made from stone jumped across the chess board in an L shaped pattern. While two boys stared intensely at the board.

Long gone were the days when Harry played for the sake of spending time with his friend. After learning occlumency chess just seemed different somehow. It was actually enjoyable for him now. There were so many combinations, so many possibilities, all the games he had played, all the games he had read about before were remembered by him down to every move.

Of course it was but a drop in the ocean for all the possible chess games, but against the same opponent… it was somewhat sufficient to recognize the common strategies, common feints Ronald Weasley liked to employ.

Of course, Harry had to admit, the red haired boy was talented in chess. After he moved his king away, Harry's brain started thinking of the possible moves ahead - it was quite a nice mental exercise, checking what would happen after every of his possible moves, as well as all possible his opponents reactions to that and so forth. It might seem daunting, yet some move chains were very easy to predict - if you accidentally left a piece free for taking, it's unlikely the opponent would miss the opportunity to get ahead at the start of the game, and on later stages there were fewer pieces remaining - fewer possible moves. Harry could already comfortably think three moves ahead when the board was nearly full, and up to seven when only a dozen or so pieces were left. Yet Ronald still managed to surprise him from time to time.

Harry glanced at his opponent from the corner of his eyes - the boys sat diagonally across the small table which had the magical chess board on it. They were both on the armchairs in Gryffindor's common room. Ron was engrossed in the game as usual, but Harry could already see the familiar glint in his eyes - the boy saw something he did not.

Of course he could simply read his mind to know what he was planning - but was that a fun way to play?

One innocent pawn moved forward one tile and it was once again Harry's turn. The boy fell deep into his thoughts, thinking of the moves ahead as he finally realised his blunder. Three moves later Ron would force him to choose - either to abandon his queen or his rook, with nothing to gain from the exchange. Harry smiled - while he was ahead of his peers in many areas, he would never claim to be the best in every field.

Harry already knew his chances for this game were slim - Ron was great at exploiting the difference in power between pieces. And losing a unit as strong as a queen or rook was a heavy blow to his side of the board.

It seems Ronald won this time.

Severus Snape sighed looking at another batch of potions to grade. Especially one single vial which had a purple solution with a label of Harry Potter.

How he hated the boy. After repeatedly getting annoying he just stopped grading his potions, not even uncorking the vial, just destroying them. Yet as no prank's effects were seen on him, Potter somehow made them blow up in his face if he tried to evaporate the liquid….

Of course he could contain the explosion - yet it was accompanied by a disgusting smell. Which had magical resisting properties, and even with best cleansing sprays he knew of still lasted for hours….

Leaving the vial abandoned was not an option as well - Potter added just the right amount of ingredients to cause the vial to slowly melt and leak the content inside if unopened for prolonged periods of time….

A few weeks passed calmly after Snape had an idea of just dropping the vial inside the room of requirements, yet just a week ago he happened to run into Harry there… He knew the boy was breaking curfew often, but why the hell he was not asleep at three in the morning? Of course being a champion and all the insufferable boy was detention-immune for the year…. Potions professor gritted his teeth - he will surely pay him back next year!

Ever since then he could faintly see faint runes engraved on the vial. One simple location detection array he knew himself. Yet all it did was make his life more miserable. Now moving Harry's brewing out of the potions classroom would cause an explosion as well…

Snape cursed as he saw that at most a week later the content would seep through the glass. No! He was not called potions master for nothing! Surely he could invent a potion to deal with this…

Various spells were being launched in multiple ways as Harry dodged, shielded himself and rolled around, trying his best to take out the armoured dummies, until eventually a spell was coming towards him he knew he could not dodge, his shield too weakened to fully block the spell.

The boy closed his eyes, partly in anticipation of pain, partly to focus as there was one more trick for him to try - one of the more advanced duelling techniques, deflecting the spells.

To deflect a spell to the side one had to immensely focus and 'catch' the spell with one's magic. Then just redirect towards somewhere else. As the spell still worked it was both a means of defence and attack - of course redirecting the spell back to the opponent was even harder than simply nugging to the side.

Soon Harry's scream resounded in the room as he failed. Looking at his bleeding wound he bit his lips, but then he noticed a faint mark on the ground as well and his lips curled up - perhaps this deflection thing was learnable after all. Having completely failed dozens of times before, he was happy to see a sign of progress, no matter how small.

In the same room his girlfriend looked worryingly at the boy. The first time she heard him scream she rushed to see what happened to him, but after a long time together she knew that such wounds like this - while looking horribly - would not last long on the boy.

Even now she could see him casting healing spells as his wounds slowly closed and the boy collapsed from exhaustion. For some reason as the third task was fast approaching Harry really overpushed himself past his limits, training so hard he sometimes fell unconscious.

Daphne worriedly came closer to the boy as the room reformed and they were now together on a comfortable bed and the combat dummies were out of the room. The girl gently put his head on her lap as she ruffled his hair while thinking about the future.

She knew Harry was hiding something from her. Ever since that day in Hogsmeade he looked… more tired than usual. His brows would furrow in surprise at seemingly random moments, before he would close his eyes for a moment and then return to whatever he was doing before. Having training in occlumency in the past, she would even think someone was attacking his mind, yet it usually was only two of them when it happened.

As for overtraining… Daphne could hardly complain. The boy still dedicated plenty of time for her, and while she hated seeing him hurt, she knew why he was doing this - Triwizard tournaments were famous for being brutal in their tasks. Especially the final ones.

While the first task looked dangerous, there were teams of dragon trainers on standby, ready to rescue the champions in case a failure happened. Sure, they might get severe burns - but nothing magic couldn't treat in a month or so until the next task. So the actual death chance was low - which was on purpose. After all, if the champion of some school perished before the finale, what entertainment would there be for the school the champion was from? Were they supposed to mourn the champion's death then watch and cheer for surviving ones from other nations?

Yet the third task was different. There would be no special teams to intervene for the rescue. No one was nearby to help them. No merfolk to watch their backs. Students were not dumb - they could clearly see a magical maze growing in their quidditch field. Daphne herself knew it was a commonly used hedge in various mazes, used as entertainment for wizards, mainly kids to try and escape. The hedge could magically reform and reorganise itself, but it had an interesting property of always keeping the areas inside connected in some way.

Daphne kept ruffling Harry's hair as if to calm her own nerves, before asking the room for the book she recently read and continuing her research, still with Harry resting on her lap.

She was scared of losing Harry, so focusing on research was a great way to push the unwanted thoughts away. Besides her boyfriend's upcoming tournament, she too had her own worries. Her sister, who was always so frail, was affected by disease affecting her family for generations… Some even called it a curse.

She wished to figure out what it was and find a cure for it. For her sister's happiness. Heat rose to her cheeks for her next thoughts - for her future children as well.

Harry was panting, trying hard to catch his breath. Today was one of those days he decided to have another duel with Victor. And today he lost once again. Of course Victor has been learning fighting for years while he just started not too long ago - this summer in fact.

But Harry could see progress. Perhaps a year more of intense training like he does today and he could beat him. Of course the current him - Victor was not standing still, he was training a lot every day as well, together with Fleur.

"Thanks for another duel, Harry"

"Likewise, Victor"

Harry picked his friend's outstretched arm as he helped him get up from the floor.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't dodge the question Harry, now I have known you long enough to know something is weighing you down a lot lately. Is it the triwizard cup finale? I believe with your skills you have a fair chance of winning it. It is after all luck based - a maze of sorts."

Harry stayed silent - his actual worries were for the events that would happen after the tournament… Encounter with the dark lord as well as his time travel problem. His heart skipped a beat as he felt the pain rising once more - once again, all his friends, all the people he knew would lose their memories of their past year together. Perhaps he could replicate the events that led him here, perhaps he could give them their lost memories - but what would they think of him afterwards? Will their relationships stay the same? Would he still befriend Sue Li? Victor and Fleur? And most importantly… would Daphne fall for him again? Could he fall for her again himself? After all it would not be the same Daphne he knows now, but an earlier version of her.

His occlumency worked as he pushed the thoughts aside from the front of his mind, renewed the shields on that cursed door that connected him to the dark lord's mind. Voldemort's random barraging of his shields was one of his daily annoyances. Perhaps due to the door existing, their link was somewhat stronger than all those months ago when he first opened the door to his opponents mind. His shields could still comfortably hold him away, yet the frequency of how often he had to replace the shields to become fully guarded of all the pain that accompanied the mind attacks was getting shorter..

Still, he did not think his friend could help with those particular problems… .but in a way they were tournament related.

"Yes, I am in part worrying about the finale…"

"To tell the truth, my headmaster once again leaked details about it… There will be a chimera, a sphynx as well as various dangerous plants and magical beast species inside the maze…. With your skills you should be able to deal or atleast escape from all of those…. All of them besides sphynx. Even I am not sure about winning against one - At least they are not aggressive, before you fail to answer their riddle, there's always time to just turn around and look for another way"

"Thanks Victor."

"Thanks to you I am in the lead for the first two tasks, It is only right I return the favour"

The two walked shortly out of the ship before they split apart - Victor had another date with Fleur in his plans, while Harry similarly had one with Daphne - no way any of them would give up this peace before the third task.

Severus Snape's eyes snapped open, as he saw fire inside his room. Cursing Harry one more time, he checked the time - it was five in the morning. As his blurred vision finally regained full focus he saw that it was no fire, no prank of Potter - it was Dumbledore's familiar, Fawkes.

His expression immediately turned serious.

"Is it the headmaster?"

*Caw!*

"Did something happen to him?"

*Caw. Caw!*

Communication was mostly body language. So even though Fawkes could not speak in English while Severus had no idea what those caw sounds meant, just from the look of the bird he figured out his guesses must have been spot on.

Cursing once again he quickly grabbed his emergency potions stash as well as his magically expanded trunk which stored a little bit of all of the ingredients for potion making.

Hogwarts salary was good, yet a potions master who liked to do experiments in his free time required a lot of money for research. All ingredients, equipment, and books cost quite a lot of money. Hence this was why Severus was selling hard to brew potions in black market as well as official channels.

Some potions would only work for a few short minutes after conduction, so this was why he had a travelling trunk full of ingredients always on standby. One never knew when some emergency request would reach him.

As soon as he was ready, he transfigured his pyjamas to his usual school wear and extended his arm towards the phoenix, who understood his intentions and moments later they both disappeared in flames.

Dumbledore was uneasy as he laid on his bed in his office, his face was sweaty as he held in the pain as he hoped Fawkes would bring Severus to him quickly enough, hoped that his trusted potions master who liked to dabble in the dark arts would know what exactly happened to him and how to cure him… or at least let him go painlessly.

Albus looked at his hand in regret. On it an ancient looking ring rested on top. The ring Gaunts had passed through generations. But he knew the deeper truth. His gaze bore not into the ring itself. Not even into his blackened arm or the spreading blackness that threatened to consume his whole body eventually. No, he gazed upon the gem embedded inside the ring. One of the three deathly hallows. The resurrection stone.

He along with Gellert Grindelwald had spent countless years looking for the hollows. He found the cape as the Potters heirloom. Grindelwald found the elder wand. Yet the stone always remained a mystery. Finding the stone brought such intense emotions to the old man. In his excitement he rushed to put it on, not noticing it was in fact a sneaky compulsion placed on top of the ring. Not noticing the curse placed on it….

Even after getting cursed, he thought nothing was wrong - he foolishly assumed it was perhaps the price to use stone…. Luckily Fawkes sensed the turmoil in his lifeforce and flamed in to shed some tears and slow the progression of the curse…

While he, an old fool, just summoned the soul of the one he missed the most. Thinking of borrowing Harry's cape he thought he would become master of death, perhaps then he would have the power to bring her back. But she did not want to return…

"Ariana, I am sorry…."

A tear slowly made its way down his cheek as Dumbledore was lost in the regrets of the past. Then a familiar flame appeared near the end of the bed as Severus and Fawkes flamed in.

While the bird joined his master in crying - his tears somehow slowed the darkening of the headmaster's arm, yet did nothing to heal it.

Severus scanned the arm with multiple diagnostic spells of his own creation as his eyes widened in horror. He was surprised to see Dumbledore was still even alive! Quickly connecting the dots he figured out a plan of action… Yes, there is a way to preserve his life…. But not for long.

First he had to get rid of the ring…. Remembering the recent dark lord's mind invasion he knew it was likely to be a horcrux, hence without hesitation he picked up the sword of Gryffindor and cut it in half. Not minding damaging the deathly hallow one bit - of course he never knew what it was.

As two pieces clanged as they fell to the floor, the spreading blackness finally came to a halt, yet the damage was already done. Sure his potions could push it back somewhat, yet the arm was likely to remain black and with limited usability.

Severus cursed as he got to work - there was not much he could do, dark arts were unforgiving, a lot of curses had no cures, the best he could do is remedy the symptoms, but Albus life force was already damaged beyond repair… even with the best potions he knew how to brew it was unlikely the old man would live more than a year or two….

An hour later Albus sat on the bed, his darkened hand hidden behind the glove. The blackening receded somewhat, yet his hand still remained dark and lifeless. He was sad to hear he had so little left to live, but thinking about it he did not have that many things he wanted to achieve - all he wanted was to end the mess with Tom before finally retiring. Now it seems… his retirement will be cut short or he will die while working….

A sudden thought crossed his mind - the hallows! If he could borrow Harry's cape…. No. The headmaster dismissed his thoughts. Master of death does not mean a thing. He did not wish to become an immortal being. Who knew how that worked at all? What if he would never be able to die at all? He was no longer foolish young Albus looking for hallows to help him in world domination, no he was now wise and knew better that his time was over. Even without the curse he doubted he would have lived more than a decade or so…. Now it seemed he had to rush things up. Hopefully Ragnog would send good news his way, so far only two horcruxes were taken care of and he had no idea how many of them there were,

Sure, Tom planned on making seven - as splitting the soul more than that was plain madness. But how about Harry? Was he an accidental eight one? Or did the dark lord not manage to create so many of them before that fateful night? Or in the worst case… was he already so mad he created horcruxes everywhere he went? All to escape the clutches of death?

The Lestrange vault has not been opened for years. The goblins thought it would stay closed for good - as all known family members were rotting in Azkaban, yet one tiny letter from archmage Dumbledore had them running inside.

Gringotts had a trust to uphold about their security and messing with their customers' vaults. The head of the Britain branch felt the headache incoming as he read and reread Albuses letter.

Even if it was true that Lestranges vault hosted one of Hogwarts founders artefacts - Hogwarts itself had no claim over it as it was a personal founder artefact.

Even if it was true that cup was a dark artefact - it broke no rules of Gringotts.

Even if it was true that it held a part of that cursed dark lord's soul - that still was not against Gringotts rules - as soul magic was so rarely encountered, there were in fact no rules at all about such items.

Ragnog sighed one more time - he decided to trust Albus for now, the old man has helped them over and over again. He even saved his life once, way before he even joined Gringotts.

While Voldemort was just a pain to deal with - when the dark lord and his minions caused chaos, business was not doing good - muggles' economy fell as they were afraid of 'terrorist attacks', 'pipe explosions' and other random excuses ministry used for damage control.

Meanwhile wizards were either busy fighting or scared in hiding which did not help the business in the area… Which plummeted the Gringotts Britain branch profits and they just barely managed to recover in recent years!

The branch leader gritted his teeth as he decided to trust the headmaster this one time. To repay his life debt. He never liked the lestranges anyway….

Not long after Ragnog was inside Lestranges vault. Being a goblin he could easily open the door to head inside. Not wanting to take anything he was safe from the multiplication curse as well.

Deep from his pocket he fished out a small goblin silver vial that held a murky blood inside - it was Basilisk's venom!

Dumbledore provided him with a few vials of this expensive poison. Knowing its properties he knew that while it was acidic in nature, it won't do any harm to a properly made artefact, one such as Hufflepuff's cup…. That was, unless it was actually holding a soul piece inside.

He poured the vial content inside the cup… Just moments later a terrifying scream resounded as the cup split apart and what seemed to be an evil spirit flew out while combusting in flames and disappearing.

Ragnog nodded - as always, it seems Dumbledore was right once again. Hopefully this would prevent the dark lord from coming back.

And in case Lestranges get released by some miracle and ask about it…. He can just feign ignorance. After all he never took anything out of their vault did he?

Harry sighed as he climbed the stairs towards the headmaster's office - just tomorrow he will go inside the maze, and today Dumbledore called for him… again.

"Come in, Harry"

As the doors opened Harry furrowed his brows. The headmaster's voice sounded frail. Heading inside he noticed a white glove on Albus hand. While his magic sense screamed in danger. He could not put it in words, but his gut was telling him that something was very wrong with the headmaster, especially his hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

Dumbledore sighed - "as expected, you can sense the evil in my hand…. Alas while I was on the hunt for a horcrux I let my feelings ahead of rationality… and now my arm is ruined."

Headmaster pulled the glove away, showing a darkened as if dead skin to the shock of the boy, before letting out a weak smile.

"I found the family ring of Gaunts, inside what remains of Tom's father's house. Which turned out to be a horcrux as we expected, unfortunately I got caught in its protection… which cursed my arm. It is only thanks to Fawkes and Severus I survived the ordeal, albeit I paid an arm for it. "

"So the horcrux?"

"Destroyed. Severus slashed it with the sword of gryffindor. I also received news from Gringotts that the cup was taken care of as well. Ragnog himself confirmed that it too was a horcrux as he also saw the piece of soul fly out and perish after the item's demise."

"So only up to five left?"

"Yes, Harry. I suppose I also have an idea about your scars problem, it's just an idea, so don't get your hopes up, I am not certain that this would work. Have you ever heard the tale of three brothers by any chance?"

"That fairy tale? About making a deal with Death?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed - he honestly had no idea where the headmaster was going with this. How in any way was this related to his scar problem?

Dumbledore's glasses twinkled as he replied, clearly amused for yet another bright mind dismissing old history as a fairy tale - like a lot of wizards did.

"What if I told you it was real? Let me tell you about the history of three artefacts known as deathly hallows."

The black haired boy listened in wonder, as learned of his ancestors - Peverell family and three artefacts they had - which conveniently were currently located in this very room - he could see pieces of stone on headmaster's table, his wand laying by the side and he knew his cloak was short distance away in his pocket trunk….

It sounded interesting and all, but was that 'master of death' thing real at all? Would becoming one let him get rid of Voldemort in his head?