AN: We are moving into the last big portion of this story with Part 4! Things will start to move quickly from here, but I will still try and balance so you get a sense of how much time is moving. Also, warning - There will be some spicy bits in this chapter. Hope you all like them ;)

Despite Ron's reluctance and Harry's simmering frustration, the plan was finalized. River and Draco would use the Invisibility Cloak and the Vanishing Cabinet to enter Hogwarts undetected. Once inside, they would make their way to Snape and try to get the answers they needed.

Part 4: The Hallowed End

Chapter 15: Ruled by Secrecy…Let the World Burn

River's POV

My consciousness existed between breaths, a delicate thread stretched thin across whispers of minds and tendrils of thoughts. I let Draco lead us through Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and into Borgin and Burkes. Every ounce of my awareness was focused elsewhere, searching for the faintest ripple of intent—a whispered threat, a stray thought that could end this mission.

I trusted Draco to guide me, his steps purposeful as my mind wandered through shadows of possibility like a wisp of smoke. We couldn't afford to be caught unawares and my gift provides a modicum of warning. The stakes were too high, and we both knew it. I didn't feel my consciousness settle back into my body until the Vanishing Cabinet clicked, signaling our arrival on the other side.

"We're here." Draco says as he slowly opens the door.

He stepped out first, his movements silent but deliberate, his eyes scanning the room with sharp precision. The only sound was the soft, deliberate fall of our feet on the worn wood floor.

The room was thick with echoes of the past—layers of forgotten magic and broken history that clung to the air like dust motes. I felt it immediately, a tainted energy snaking through the space, coiling around us. It wasn't just old—it was wrong.

The magic felt poisoned, corrupted, as if the very foundation of the castle was steeped in malevolence. This was Hogwarts, but it wasn't. The walls that once held laughter and learning, the air that once buzzed with possibility, now seemed to hold its breath, heavy with shadows and silence. Darkness had seeped into its soul.

We continue moving in the shadows, staying vigilant of any lurking threat. When we finally reach the entrance to the circular staircase that takes you to the headmaster's office, Draco speaks.

"Shit, we don't know the password." He says as we eye the portrait in front of us.

I eye the wall next to us and an idea prickles in my mind. I move out from under the cloak.

"What are you doing?" Draco hisses trying to keep his voice down.

"Great great great grandfather?" I say quietly as I look up at Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Ah, it's you again." Phineas says as he looks up from reading whatever book he held. "Didn't imagine you would be back after the fuss you caused."

"Just here for a quick chat, is Headmaster Snape in his office?" I ask quietly.

Draco removes the cloak and comes to stand next to me, taking my hand to show support, where I address Phineas.

Phineas looks down his nose at me, studying me closely before moving to Draco. After a minute he returns his gaze to me. "He is."

"Is he alone?" Draco asks.

"You'd be the Malfoy heir?" Phineas asks as he scrutinizes Draco further.

"I am." Draco replies.

Phineas doesn't say anything but seems to give a small nod, like that of approval. "He is alone."

I smile. "Could you tell us the password, please?"

Phineas studies us a moment longer. "This related to all that Death Eater business going on?"

"Possibly."

"Dreadful brutes, those Carrows. Shouldn't be left to ruin Hogwarts, not sure what Snape is thinking." Phineas says as he opens the book he had been reading again. "The password is Asphodel."

"Thank you Great great great grandfather."

The frame creaks open, and we wait, listening to ensure the hallway is still empty before stepping inside.

"I think he approved," Draco says with a small chuckle, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

I roll my eyes but can't suppress a smile. "Of course that's what you'd focus on."

We ascend the stairs in silence, each step echoing softly in the stillness. My fingers tighten around my wand as the knot in my stomach twists tighter. Whatever happens next, there's no turning back.

The office is dimly lit, its shelves lined with jars of shadowy substances and tomes so ancient they seem to breathe dust. It doesn't look that different from when it was Dumbledore's office, but there is something underneath the surface that feels different. Snape sits at his desk, an empty portrait behind him, while he is surrounded by parchment and quills, his attention focused on whatever he's scribbling.

Without looking up, he speaks, his voice as sharp as the blade of a knife. "Is that really necessary?"

Neither Draco or I say a word as we stand in front of him. When I feel the coolness of his mind reaching out, I clamp down on my mental barriers, shutting the doors to my mind in his face.

"You'd better have an excellent reason for interrupting me, or I'll assume you've both developed a death wish." Snape says as he looks up and glares at me.

"What can you tell us of the Deathly Hallows?" I ask while eyeing Snape in return.

Snape scoffs. "You think barging into my office like ill-prepared children will yield answers to your questions? Brilliant strategy."

Draco stiffens beside me. "Look, we wouldn't be here if we had any other choice. You're the one person who might actually know what Dumbledore was planning."

"Ah, yes. Because the late headmaster always made a habit of sharing his grand machinations with me." Snape replies with a dry sneer.

We don't have time for his sniveling attitude. "But you do know something. You were part of his plans. He trusted you."

Snape holds my gaze, and I swear I see a flicker light in his eyes. A memory trying to come out. I press on this opening… red hair… a smile… green eyes. "You know, Professor, I've always wondered about something. Why did you have me brew the Draught of Living Death over the summer? Was it just for the challenge, or is it the physical manifestation of the regret and sorrow you carry?"

Snape's eyes narrow, his tone clipped. "Careful, Miss Black. Tread lightly where you do not understand the weight of your questions."

I hold his gaze, unwavering. "Then help me understand. Because regret and sorrow won't help us survive this war."

Snape leans back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly as if battling both exasperation and acceptance. When he speaks, his tone is more resigned than sharp. "Dumbledore trusted me to play my part, yes. To protect Potter, to carry out his… death. But he trusted no one fully. I know more than you, perhaps, but not enough to give you the whole picture."

Draco steps forward, his voice edged with urgency. "Did you know Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?"

Before Snape can respond, a voice interrupts, smooth and laced with amusement. "No, dear Severus was not aware that I held the Elder Wand."

Both Draco and I look toward the portrait behind Snape's desk, now occupied by Dumbledore. He has wandered back into his frame, his expression serene but his blue eyes sharp as they land on us. My stomach churns, a maelstrom of fury and sorrow rising as I face him.

"My dear Ms. Black— I owe you, and Mr. Malfoy, both an apology. My choices, however calculated, have caused you great harm."

Draco's jaw tightens beside me, but it's my voice that cuts through the charged air. "You could have told us. You left barely breadcrumbs, never the full picture, while you turned us into unwitting child soldiers in a war that started long before any of us were born. How did that sit with you Professor? While you watched all the danger unfold?"

Dumbledore's portrait sighs, his expression softening. "You are right to feel as you do, Ms. Black. My decisions have often been far from kind, and the burdens I placed upon you and Mr. Potter were heavier than any child should bear. For that, I am deeply sorry."

He pauses, his gaze shifting between me and Draco, his voice more solemn. "But I hope you will understand this: war leaves little room for gentle choices. I did not wish for you to be caught in the tide of events, yet the alternative was far worse. It is not solace I offer, but truth—because the fight you are engaged in now is not one I alone orchestrated. The foundations of this war were laid long before any of us drew breath."

Draco's voice rings out, sharp, his anger simmering through clenched teeth. "So that excuses everything? Turning us into pawns, dangling our families as bait? My mother sacrificed everything to get us out of the Manor because of all this!"

Dumbledore's portrait gaze softens, and he nods slightly. "Severus has told me of your mother. Her courage is remarkable, Mr. Malfoy. She walks a treacherous path, but she does so for you, for your survival. I have no doubt Severus has done what he can to honor the vow he made to her." Dumbledore glances briefly at Snape, who remains silent but tense.

My rage is boiling underneath the surface as well. We were all just caught between two would-be Kings on the opposite sides of a board. "And what about me? You used me like a piece on a chessboard. Did you even care what would happen to me? Or was I just a means to an end?"

Again, Dumbledore's portrait grows quieter, his voice filled with uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I cared, my dear, more than you know. But caring does not absolve me of the harm I caused. Every step I took was to ensure that Voldemort's reign would end, and every step weighed heavily upon me. I asked too much of too many, but I believed—I still believe—that you, and those who stand with you, are capable of shaping a better world than the one we inherited."

It's all a bunch of pretty words… pretty lies. This is just a figment of the man who died. In the end, he isn't here to atone. It's the people left behind who have to pick up the broken pieces of their lives. I steel my resolve and glare at Snape and Dumbledore.

"We know there are seven horcruxes from Slughorn's memory. We suspect that they are items that pertain to each of Hogwarts founders. What. Do. You. Know?" My magic flares under my skin, sharp and crackling like distant thunder. It's not just anger—it's urgency, a raw pulse of energy begging for release.

Snape drums his fingers against his desk. "You presume much, Miss Black, but not without reason. Seven Horcruxes, items tied to the founders—what you suspect aligns with what I have deduced. But understand this: even I am piecing together fragments of a larger, deliberately obscured puzzle."

Draco steps forward, his voice sharp. "Then stop being cryptic and tell us what you do know. We don't have time for riddles."

Snape's jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply through his nose. His gaze shifts to Dumbledore's portrait, a silent exchange passing between them.

Dumbledore's Portrait nods slightly to Severus. "Go on, Severus. It's time."

With visible reluctance, Snape pulls open a drawer in his desk, retrieving a small black sack. He sets it on the desk with deliberate precision before speaking. "Inside, you will find what you need to move forward. Potion ingredients, including a strand of Bellatrix Lestrange's hair—don't ask how I obtained it." Snape's lips curl into a faint sneer before his expression hardens again. "There is also a small pensive and two vials of memories. One is mine. The other belonged to Dumbledore. Together, they will provide clarity, but may still lack some of the answers you seek."

He hesitates briefly before placing a battered potions textbook next to the supplies sack on the desk. The edges are frayed, the cover marked with faint scorch marks.

I watch as Snape shifts towards me, holding my gaze as his tone softens slightly. "And this. It contains notes that may prove useful—between the two of you you should be clever enough to decipher them."

"Thank you." I say quietly as I pick up the book and the sack.

Draco steps closer to the desk, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder, to provide strength as before he asks the question he fears to hear the answer to.

"Is my mother…"

Snape's jaw tightens again, and he doesn't look up as he speaks. "She is alive, for now. But she remains in that house, under his watch. No one is safe there, Draco."

Draco's hand clenches into a fist at his side, but he asks nothing more.

Snape returns to the parchment in front of him. "Leave. And do not return here. If you are caught, there will be nothing more I can do for you."

We turn to leave, but I pause before we reach the top of the stairs and turn back towards him. "Regret and sorrow, bound together. A poison of the soul. She wouldn't want you to drown in it."

Snape doesn't look up, but I catch the faintest tremor in his hand as he writes, the quill faltering for just a moment. His silence speaks volumes.

I offer a faint, almost sad smile. "You've done more than you'll ever admit, Professor. Maybe it's time you let yourself believe it."

With that, Draco and I make our way back through the darkness that descends on the castle. Once again I find my mind existing between breaths. My mind is reaching out, searching, lurking in the shadows. I don't register when we make our way into the Room of Hidden Things, but something catches in my mind, a voice, almost faint.

Do you crave the answers that elude you, child of shadows?

My mind slams back into my body and it causes me to stop short. Draco's hand in mind is pulled from my grasp as he keeps walking. When he notices I stopped, he turns back towards me. "What is it?" He asks. "Is it Death Eaters?"

"No. But… there is something here… something different." I say as my eyes scan around the room.

"A Horcrux?"

"I'm not sure." I say as I again let my mind wander. I turn and start to walk towards the voice that calls to my mind.

To know all is to risk all.

As I draw closer, the voice grows sharper, more insistent, as if testing my resolve.

I offer what you seek—knowledge beyond your years, wisdom that can reshape the world.

"You speak of knowledge and wisdom, as though they're yours to bestow. But what do you truly offer?"

The voice is cold and disdainful, layered with a haunting echo. You question my worth? Foolish child. Do you not yearn to rise above, to wield the power of knowing what others cannot comprehend?

My mind remains steady, defiant. "Knowledge without purpose is a hollow gift. You claim to hold truths, but all I hear are empty promises wrapped in shadows. What's your price?"

"A price? There is no price, only possibility. You, who walk the line between light and dark, would thrive with such power. Why deny yourself the chance to become something more?"

I step closer to where the voice seems to be coming from. I move several boxes away from where I think it rests. "To become what? A pawn to your corruption? I've seen what your promises bring—destruction, ruin. I'll never become the thing you want me to be."

The voice drops to a dangerous whisper, serpentine and taunting as I move the last box away and come face to face with a small bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, and on top, a Diadem. You think you are different from those who came before? So confident, so sure. Yet even now, I feel the cracks in your resolve. You doubt, you fear, you hesitate. Perhaps it's your madness showing.

My magic crackles, my music, my Fugue rising in my mind to stave off the madness that the Diadem threatens me with. "You're wrong. My fear doesn't make me weak—it makes me strong. It reminds me of what I'm fighting for."

I feel Draco stepping closer to me, and I hold up a hand to keep him back. His voice calls out to me through the tension in my mind. "River, whatever it's saying, don't listen. It's trying to twist your mind. This is how the Dark Lord works."

The Diadem ignores Draco, its voice wrapping around me like a vice. He cannot save you, child of shadows. Only you can make the choice. Embrace the power, or be consumed by your own madness.

"I've already made my choice." I say as I draw my wand and levitate the Diadem from where it sits into the bag that Snape had given us.

As I shut my mind to the Horcrux, I turn back to Draco. "Let's get out of here." Draco merely nods, takes my hand, and leads me back through the maze of objects to the Vanishing Cabinet.

No other words were said as Draco and River made the return journey through the Vanishing Cabinet. Neither dared to breathe for fear of being discovered when they were so close to returning to the sliver of safety that Shell Cottage offered them. When they felt the wards ripple around them and welcome back inside the Fidelius, River gasped sharply, as though she'd been drowning and had only just broken the surface. Harry, Hermione, and Ron greet them outside as they make their way to the door.

"How did it go?" Harry asks as they usher them back inside.

"Give us a minute," Draco muttered, collapsing onto the couch with uncharacteristic gracelessness. The Golden Trio exchanged a glance, startled by the usually composed Slytherin's disheveled state.

River isn't much better, her hand clearly shaking as she holds out the bag that she carries. "Put this somewhere…else, for a bit. Don't open it." River says as hands it to Hermione.

Hermione hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding, taking the bag and disappearing upstairs to stow it away with their belongings.

"What is it?" Ron asks with trepidation.

"Supplies from Snape," Draco replied, his face still pale. "Some memories. And… we think we found another Horcrux. It was… speaking to River in the Room of Hidden Things." His color was starting to return, but his voice carried a lingering unease. "Merlin, that thing was dark. We didn't even touch it, but I could feel it the entire way back. It was like a bloody vice around my neck."

River, her voice quieter, added, "It feeds off the piece he cut away, becoming the representation. Arrogance… intellect. He couldn't imagine anyone turning down such an offer. He'd sooner choke you with his words."

Hermione returns a moment later. "Did Snape have any other idea about what could be Horcruxes?"

Draco shook his head. "Only what we thought about—items pertaining to the founders. Dumbledore's portrait did confirm River has the Elder Wand, though." He reached over, his hand resting gently on her knee, tracing soft circles with his thumb.

River stares straight ahead but at nothing, her eyes vacant of clarity. "Seven: Prime number. One walks into the house of seven and finds no pairs to divide, just solitude. Two's company, but seven keeps its own counsel—odd, indivisible, and steadfast."

The trio exchanged glances before turning back to River, who seemed lost in the depths of her thoughts. "River, are you okay?" Harry asked carefully.

"Okay?" she echoed, her voice distant. "No, I think 'okay' is a house I've forgotten how to build. My mind's a riddle right now, and every answer leads back to him—his pieces, his shadows. The Horcrux didn't just speak; it knew. It was waiting for someone to hear it, to answer its call."

A chill descended over the room, the weight of her words settling heavily around them.

Hermione ventured, "Maybe we all get some sleep tonight. In the morning, we should probably look to leave. It's already been more time that we were supposed to stay in an Order location."

The group nodded in weary agreement, the tension easing just slightly. As they began to head to their rooms, River's quiet voice was like being dosed with icy cold water.

"Don't sleep in the room with it."

No one slept long that last night at Shell Cottage. Even before the earliest rays of dawn peaked out over the horizon, the rag tag group left the cottage like ghosts. Bill and Fleur said nothing to them as they left, just offered a bag of supplies.

As Ron hugged Bill, he clung tightly, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Bill's hand rested on the back of Ron's head, his eyes closed as if memorizing the moment. It was hard to say goodbye to a brother when you knew that they were likely all going to die in this war.

They spent the next few hours bouncing around the countryside; Hermione, Ron, and Draco taking turns apperating around in an effort to conceal where they would eventually stay. By early afternoon, they had settled into a wild piece of the Ariundle Oakwoods, the ancient trees standing like silent guardians around them.

Hermione and Draco set to work on the wards surrounding the tent they would be staying in. Their wands moved in sync as they muttered incantations, layers of protective spells shimmering briefly before fading into the air. Harry and River organized the supplies, the rustling of parchment and clinking of potion bottles breaking the forest's quiet. Ron walked the perimeter, carefully placing traps, alarms, and other early warning charms among the roots and underbrush, each spell cast with meticulous care.

By the time they all reconvened in the early evening, the sun casting long shadows through the canopy, they were weary but resolute. The camp was secure, and they were as ready as they could be to face the task ahead.

River's POV

We were two hours into pouring over our own personal notes or recollections, every scrap of something and nothing that we clung to in hopes it would reveal a shred of importance. The Pensieve sat untouched, its vials of memories still waiting. None of us were ready to face what demons Snape or Dumbledore had left us. It felt like a cacophony of instruments warming up in the tent, nothing making sense, but the eager audience waiting for it to come together.

"This is bollocks. We've been through everything." Ron slammed another book down on the small table. "We've got one piece of his soul sitting right there. Great. Now what? How are we supposed to destroy it? Or do we just sit here waiting for Voldemort to find us?"

"Yes, because your brilliant strategy of 'sit and wait' has been working so well so far," Draco drawled from his seat beside me, his tone laced with sarcasm.

I can feel Ron glaring at both of us. "Careful, Malfoy. You're only here because River thinks you're worth something. I'm still waiting to see it."

I feel Draco sit up straighter, his voice icy. "And you're here because Potter dragged you along. Let's not pretend you're the brains of this operation, Weasley."

"That's enough. Both of you." Hermione says as I hear a soft thud, likely her gently smacking Ron's arm. "Bickering isn't going to help us figure out what to do next."

"Draco, stop provoking him. Ron, focus. We aren't going to find the real locket if we keep bickering." Harry says as he deposits the locket he had been inspecting on the table in front of me.

Repress and restrain
Steal the pressure and the pain

I am not getting anywhere with the book in my hands and set it down next to the locket. I gently pick up the locket. It certainly doesn't feel like the Diadem, no voice, nothing malevolent. I let my fingers trace over the delicate metalwork, the Emerald stone inlaid in the center is smooth to the touch, but as my fingertip brushes over the edge, I feel something, something jagged, something I hadn't noticed before.

Emeralds aren't relatively tough gemstones, but this doesn't look like a chip when I stare at it with my eyes. The stone was also devoid of any other chips, and this one was almost to the edge of where it was inlaid.

"Hermione, do we have a magnifying glass?" I ask as my fingers run over it again.

"Accio." Hermione says before one comes flying from her bag. She hands it to me, and I focus on where my fingertip felt the imperfection.

It's like the imperfection has struck broken chords and arpeggios in my mind. It's like a pebble dropped into the stillness of my mind and a fluid, rippling texture is radiating out. As my eyes focus more and more on the jagged little piece I felt, three letters come into focus.

Wash the blood off your hands
This time she won't understand

"R.A.B." I say softly to myself. "Regulus Arcturus Black…" The ripples have become crashing waves now.

Draco hears the name and turns towards me. "My cousin?"

"Regulus must be the one who took the real locket. He must have known what it was. It's why he performed the Sanglien Basilic." I say quickly as I hand him the locket to look at more closely. Hermione has also drifted closer to us, and Harry and Ron look over at us trying to keep up with what we have uncovered.

"That makes sense. Mother said Regulus turned against Voldemort. He would have known the risks and taken steps to hide it."

Hermione takes a turn with the locket and magnifying glass. "He got it out of the cave then. This locket clearly has his initials. He must've stolen it from Voldemort, but… he wouldn't have kept it for himself."

"He wouldn't have hidden it just anywhere. He would have entrusted it to someone loyal, someone he knew wouldn't betray him." Draco says absentmindedly as he leans back against the couch we sit on.

Change in the air
And they'll hide everywhere
And no one knows who's in control

Waves of realization punctuated by even more dissonant broken cords sharpen and still in my mind. There was only one person Regulus would have trusted.

"Kreacher."

"Kreacher?" Harry questions.

Ron practically laughs. "That old prick? But—"

"No," I interrupted. "Kreacher was Regulus's. If anyone knows what happened to the locket, it's him." I close my eyes, summoning all my focus. "Kreacher!"

With a sharp crack, Kreacher appears in the center of the tent. His wizened form looks more frail than usual, but his chest rises and falls with purpose.

"Mistress Black calls Kreacher. Kreacher is here."

Part of me aches at the somewhat friendly face of Kreacher. I rush towards him, enveloping him in a hug. He bristles, but allows himself to somewhat relax that it is his Mistress Black. I pull back and look at him more closely. "Kreacher, did Regulus give you something? A locket?"

"Kreacher… has kept it safe, Mistress. His last wish. Master Regulus knew. He knew what would happen. Kreacher has kept it safe. For you."

We all watch as Kreacher carefully takes the chain out from under the shirt he wears. Kreacher hesitates, his hand trembling as he takes the chain off over his head. His fingers linger on it, as if parting with it is both a relief and a sorrow. As he holds it out, the green emerald glints in the candle light of the tent, and I feel it, feel the clawing piece of Tom Riddle's soul reaching out. Soft, insidious, and layered with whispers, as though coming from the darkest corners of my thoughts.

"You're no savior, River Black. A shadow clinging to the name of a family that would discard you. You walk among them, but they don't trust you—do you feel it? Their eyes, always watching, always doubting. Even the Malfoy boy, who holds your heart, wonders how long before you break."

You're working so hard
And you're never in charge

"Thank you, Kreacher. Rest now." I say as I take the locket from his hand into my palm.

Kreacher does not apparate away, but instead shuffles over to a nearby chair, allowing his body, which already looks a little less frail after relinquishing the locket, to sit and recuperate. I watch as his eyes find Draco behind me, a flicker of pride in his weary expression as it seems he puts two and two together.

I force the whispers from the locket out of my mind, their claws receding as I force my focus on the group around me. My fingers tighten around the chain as I sit back, grounding myself in the reality of the tent.

Draco leans forward, his eyes flicking between me and the locket. "River, did you… hear something? Was it like what happened with the diadem?"

Harry's gaze narrows on the locket, as if he hears something too. "It's… different, isn't it? Not as immediate, but it still knows. It feels darker somehow."

Ron scowls, his voice low. "Yeah, great. Another talking piece of Voldemort's soul. Just what we need. How do we even destroy them?"

"Let me guess—you suggest hitting it until something happens?" Draco remarks dryly.

Ron snaps back, his voice rising. "Better than sitting there, acting like you're too good for any of this! You've been—"

"Enough!" I cry out, feeling the rising tensions crack my mental fortitude.

Both boys fall silent, though Ron's glare lingers on Draco. I glance at Hermione, who gives me a brief nod before she speaks.

"Regulus knew how dangerous this was. If he trusted Kreacher to protect it, then he must have had some idea how to destroy it. We just need to figure out what he knew." Hermione reasons.

"We've destroyed two Horcruxes already. Dumbledore destroyed the ring, and I destroyed the diary with the basilisk fang. But this… we don't have anything like that here." Harry supplies.

"Regulus wouldn't have relied on anything as random as luck. He must have left some kind of clue." Draco says coolly.

"Yeah, well, we're short on clues and long on cursed jewelry, so what now?" Ron mutters.

I move over to the cabinet where we stored the Diadem. We had warded it to avoid the malevolent thoughts from infecting us with its vitriol. "We start with what we know. The locket is his pride, it feeds on our fears in an effort to isolate us." I use my wand to open the cabinet and place the locket inside, closing it and then reworking and doubling the wards. The air in the tent already seems to lighten without its influence unchecked. "But that's all it is—a parasite. It has power because we let it. If we're going to destroy it, we have to take that power away."

"She's right. It's trying to weaken us," Harry says, also seeming to feel the lightning tension in the tent with the locket warded away.

"So what do you suggest? Because I doubt it's going to hand over its secrets willingly." Ron asks.

"What about him?" Draco says as he motions behind us all to where Kreacher sits.

Everyone turns to the wizened house-elf, who has been watching silently from his chair. Kreacher straightens slightly, his expression weary but resolute.

I smile at Draco for the brilliance of the simple suggestion before turning to Kreacher again. "Kreacher, you kept it safe for Regulus—do you know more about what Regulus was planning?"

"Kreacher does not know how to destroy it. Master Regulus… he knew, but he did not share this with Kreacher. He only said that the locket must never fall into the Dark Lord's hands again."

Ron sighs. "Well, that's helpful."

"Kreacher kept it safe, as Master Regulus wished. Kreacher kept it for Mistress Black, knowing she would return. Kreacher has done his duty unlike you, blood-traitor."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Nice to see some things don't change."

"And you've done more than enough, Kreacher. Regulus would be proud of you." I say to cut off any other arguments being started.

Kreacher's eyes glisten faintly at my words, but he nods, sitting back in the chair. I look back at the group. "If Regulus knew the locket's nature, then maybe… maybe he planned for it to be destroyed with something specific. A magical artifact, or a process."

"Not sure how Dumbledore destroyed the ring, but…"

In all of the hubbub of the locket, we had momentarily forgotten the two vials of memories and the pensive. I move back to the bag that held them, slowly taking them out and setting them on the table.

"I think we need to see those memories now."

Your death creates success
Rebuild and suppress

River's POV

I sat outside the tent on a small blanket, having offered to take the midnight watch. I wouldn't be able to sleep, I couldn't risk any little deaths after what we witnessed in those memories.

It's not just the words from the memories that threaten me—Dumbledore's foolish pride as he placed the ring on his hand, sealing his own death warrant. The fiendfyre he used to destroy the ring, its flames licking at my skin and causing sweat to gather even in the memory. The resignation in Dumbledore's tone, the sheer weight of his choices. He didn't flinch when he laid out the plan for his own death. He didn't falter as he burdened Snape with a task that will stain his soul forever. It's like he had already made peace with his own sacrifice, and I can't help but wonder… what sacrifices will we all be forced to carry?

Snape's voice rings out in my mind again, filled with venom as he accuses Dumbledore of raising Harry "like a pig for slaughter." The anger, the bitterness, the sheer depth of his resentment—was suffocating. And yet, beneath it, there was quiet acceptance, an understanding that no matter how much he hates it, he will still play his part. For Lily.

Watching Snape's memories had broken my heart in two. The depth he cared for Lily, his torment when all he saw looking at her son was the man who nearly cost him his life, but did cost him his friendship with the woman he loved. Everything he tried to do for Harry over the years, the silent battles he fought. Everything he gave. For the cause. For the slim hope that it will all mean something in the end.

Harry didn't know what to make of Snape's memories of his mother. It certainly didn't absolve him of the torment he had caused, but it did break down what we all thought we knew of the man. Snape's scars… his weren't self-inflicted. They were borne of duty, loyalty, and love so deeply buried it seemed almost forgotten. Who, in the end, will fight to save him? To show him there's more than this endless spiral of darkness and sacrifice?

The memories carve cracks into me…twisting and winding their way into every facet. Because I see now that this fight isn't just about Voldemort or his Horcruxes. It's about what we're willing to lose, to sacrifice, to destroy in ourselves. And I'm not sure which is more terrifying: the thought of failing, or the thought of becoming like them. Sacrifices made in the dark, with no promise of light. Choices that leave scars no magic can heal.

I'd already felt fractured and scared from the Academy…"What if I'm not strong enough?" The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

"You are. Even if you don't see it yet, you are." I turn to see Draco standing behind me, just outside the tent. His eyes meet mine, steady and unyielding.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The night stretches around us, quiet except for the rustle of leaves and the faint crackle of the ward lines humming in the distance. Draco steps closer, sitting down next to me, his comforting icy presence grounding me in the overwhelming silence.

"I've seen what you're capable of," he says, his voice low but firm. "You've already survived more than most people could ever handle."

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Survived, yes. But am I really stronger for it? Or just more broken?" More insane like Bellatrix goes unspoken.

Draco's gaze flickers with something I can't quite place—guilt, maybe, or regret. "You're stronger than you think, River. I saw it at the Manor."

The words settle heavily between us. My chest tightens, memories of the Manor clawing their way to the surface: the cold marble floors, the suffocating weight of the Dark Lord's presence, and the desperate, unspoken connection between us in the chaos.

"You…" Draco begins, but his voice falters. He looks away for a moment, his hands clenched into fists. We hadn't talked about the Manor, what Narcissa had sacrificed to get us out, and I can feel the thoughts dancing just along the periphery of Draco's mind. He pushes them away… still not ready to face her sacrifice or confront the depth of his father's evil.

I want to tell him it wasn't his fault. That none of this was. That his father's sins, the Manor—they don't define him. But the words stick in my throat, trapped by my own guilt and uncertainty. If I say them aloud, if I bring them into the light.

Instead, I let myself be a momentary distraction for both of us. I lean in, brushing my lips against his, chasing away both our thoughts. The kiss isn't like the ones we shared at the Manor. It's hesitant, soft—a quiet relief rather than a desperate plea.

When I pull away, my eyes meet his, and I see something I wasn't expecting. Possession, one borne from a far deeper love than I had imagined… one that burns everything it touches.

Lost in the fog
I fear that there's still further to fall
It's dangerous 'cause I want it all
And I don't think I care what it costs

"Were you going to tell me? Before we…" Draco 's words die off as his arms quickly yank me to straddle his lap. The pressure of his fingertips digging into my skin in a way that burns into my soul and leaves me delirious.

His lips find the juncture of my neck and shoulder, his teeth biting into the pressure point to elicit a delicious release of pleasure. He's masking his pain with pleasure. Taking what will only suffice as a temporary bandage. I don't blame him. It's a relief to have my mind overwhelmed by him so fully.

"Draco…" I say more breathy than I could have imagined.

His arms wrap around me, both anchoring me and grinding me further into his lap. Pleasure blooms like fire along my nerves. "Would it have mattered?" I ask as my fingers thread into the hair at the nape of his neck and I allow myself to melt into every touch.

I shouldn't have fallen in love
Look what it made me become

I feel Draco's lips smirk against my skin. "It's not something to brush off. At the very least, I would have been more gentle." Draco says before his lips crash onto mine again. They fight for dominance over each other, while our tongues also battle.

My teeth find his bottom lip and gently capture it. "That's not what I wanted." I say before moving them to his earlobe. As my teeth scrape and bite down, Draco moans and his hips buck up into my pelvis.

I let you get too close
Just to wake up alone

"And what do you want?" Draco asks as his hands pull at the clothes on my body. I do the same before briefly standing so he can both pull down his trousers and help me with mine. When we are free from the confines of our clothing I quickly settle back onto his body. The heat from our bodies as I slide my wetness along his shaft sends a new wave of pleasure and excitement through my body.

"Le petit mort." I say as I grind just a tad harder. Blissful, warm, unconsciousness.

You're scared to believe I'm the one
But I just can't let you go

Draco groans before he quickly lines himself up and slides into me until he's seated fully. "You're fuckin' perfect." He says as he looks into my eyes.

It's sublime, to finally feel every one of my senses evaporate into the ether as my pleasure is amplified by Draco's reflection back at me. His thoughts… his own euphoria… they burn away rational thought… leaving me for once devoid of focusing on anything other than here, now.

"Draco…" I call out as his hips pick up speed.

His lips crash into mine before pulling away quickly. "I'd let the world burn…Just to hear you calling out my name."

"Draco…" I gasp as the euphoria becomes too much and both mine and Draco's petit mort takes my mind into oblivion.

Hazy… out of focus… like an old film weathered by time. Flashes, images, the world around me is gilded, shimmering with gold that catches and reflects light from nowhere. The gold is sharp, jagged, consuming everything it touches. It covers the ground like… gold coins.

Then I see the Cup, sitting atop a golden pedestal, its edges gleaming with unnatural brilliance. The air around it hums with power, thick and suffocating.

"You could have this," a voice purrs, soft and insidious, curling into my mind like smoke. "All of this could be yours."

The air grows colder, the edges of the vision blurring. I try to turn away, but my feet are rooted in place. When I look down, I see Nagini coiled around them, slowly constricting and slithering up my body.

"You… you could change everything. Imagine it. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you deserve?" Nagini's mind seems to hiss into mine

The serpent slithers higher, curling around my waist and arms, binding me. My heart races, and I struggle against it, but the more I fight, the tighter it grips me.

River's POV

My body jerks before my mind catches up, and I find myself flailing and falling to the floor as my consciousness rips free from the confines of the dream. Gasping, I claw at the ground, still feeling Nagini's coils constricting around me, her scales cold and slick.

"River, are you alright?" Harry says as he comes over to me.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, my voice hoarse as I scan the tent, still half-expecting the snake to burst through the seams.

"Draco and Hermione are walking the wards. Ron's adjusting the alarms."

I nod, the explanation settling in the periphery of my mind. "I think I know what they are."

Harry's brow furrows. "What?"

"The Horcruxes… I saw them."

His confusion deepens. "How?"

I drop into a chair, still catching my breath. "I'm not sure… When I dream, it's not like normal dreams. It's more like I see… outcomes. Probabilities. Calculations. I call them little deaths."

Harry watches me carefully. "You saw yourself die?"

"No." I shake my head, the nightmare still pressing on my mind. "It's not just about dying—it's about choices. They were trying to make me believe I needed them. That I could fix everything if I just… gave in. But it wasn't about fixing anything—it was about taking. About control."

"But it's a dream. Just a nightmare, right?"

I look him in the eye, my voice steady but haunted. "It's never just a nightmare, Harry. It's how it's always been. At the Academy, they trained me to dream this way—like a weapon. To see every possibility, every fracture. They called it a gift. I thought it was a curse. It's why I don't sleep. Every time I do, it's another little death. Another piece of me that gets lost."

His brow furrows, the weight of my words settling between us. "I…I have been having visions too."

"What?" I stutter.

"My scar…It's like I see through He Who Shall Not be Named." He says as he rubs at the lightning bolt on his forehead.

Most of the time his fringe covers it, but as I look a little more closely, I see how it's starting to become more red… how it looks almost more fresh than it has.

"Do Hermione and Ron know?"

Harry takes his glasses off and rubs them on his shirt. "No…I didn't want to worry them."

"Harry…" I start as I reach out and grab his hand to offer a comforting squeeze. The minute I do though, I feel something, something tingling in the back of my mind. But before I can question it further, the flap to the tent opens and Draco and Hermione come inside.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asks, taking in the sight before her.

"River thinks she saw what the last two Horcruxes are." Harry responds as he takes his glasses off and rubs them on his shirt again. A clear nervous tick.

I drop Harry's hand and move towards the sitting area of the tent so we can discuss what I saw. "Helga Hufflepuff's Cup and Nagini." I watch as the color drains from both Hermione and Draco.

"Did you see where they were?"

"Not exactly, I saw gold… gold coins, and it was dark, like…"

"Like a vault?" Draco asks as he sits down next to me.

A chill trickles down my nerves. It made sense. What Lucius had been doing… the barbed comments he made towards Bellatrix at dinner. "I think it's the Lestrange vault. I think they sent Nagini there as a trap…knowing we would figure out something and go."

"Then they know what we are hunting?"

My nightmare still filters through my mind in little pieces. I try to think about any other details I can remember. "I don't know… maybe there is something else in there Nagini is guarding?"

"Something that could destroy Horcruxes?" Hermione suggests.

"Possibly."

"Well, it's a start." Harry says optimistically. "So how do we get into the Lestrange Vault?"

My mind catches on a detail, something Snape had given us, but both Draco and I had brushed over at the time. "Do we have all the supplies we need for Polyjuice?"

AN: Ok, so was anyone else thinking River wouldn't sense the Diadem when they used the vanishing cabinet? It seemed like having her simply walk past it would be unbelievable. But don't worry, they will be back in the Room of Requirement later. Also we may have a few faces popping up in the next chapter, any guesses as to who? Let me know who you think in the comments!