I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Eragon universes.

Sorry, for the long delay, but I didn't have much time to write the story. This is the first part and I will post the second part once I am done with editing it (In a few hours). I split it up, because I think it will be easier to read. The second part is quite long.

Thank you Bearsona09 for your huge help in writing this part!

"A prophecy," Sirius muttered, covering his eyes with his arm. "James and Lily had to die because of some bloody prophecy."

Sirius began to laugh, but there was nothing joyful about it. The sound was hollow and cold. "I just can't believe it… Why didn't they ever tell me?"

"Maybe because they didn't even know," Harry said quietly. "You saw how long it took Dumbledore to tell me the truth, and the prophecy directly concerned me."

Sirius took a shaky breath. "Well, that's just fantastic to hear," he said sarcastically.

"But are you sure it was you the prophecy referred to?" Oromis asked.

Harry smiled. "Not necessarily."

Arya stared at Harry, surprised. "Wait, you mean the prophecy didn't have to apply to you?"

"Oh, it always did," Harry replied.

"Harry," Eragon groaned, holding his head. "I don't understand. Please explain this to us!"

Harry grinned at Eragon. "It's actually pretty simple. Two young couples had had defied Voldemort successfully – exactly three times."

Thiora was the first to understand. "There was another child the prophecy could've applied to?"

"Exactly. You already know him from the memories. His name is Neville."

Sirius smacked his forehead. "Of course! Alice and Frank faced Voldemort three times as well."

"And Neville, like me, was born at the end of July," Harry added.

Arya frowned. "But if all of this applied to both of you… why are you the one the prophecy chose?"

Harry sighed. "For a simple reason. Voldemort chose me, not Neville. That's why the prophecy applied to me."

"Ugh, I'm starting to understand why you warned me in Teirm not to put too much stock in Angela's prophecy," Eragon muttered. "They really are nothing but headaches!"

Harry winked at Eragon. "You're welcome."

For a moment, no one said anything, the silence allowing everyone to gather their thoughts. Finally, Sirius broke it. "Alright," he said, "we should keep moving, even if it's all downhill from here."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Sirius puffed out his chest. "Because I'm no longer there!"

Albus Dumbledore appeared on Privet Drive, his long white beard trailing through the air as he walked toward the Dursleys' house. When he reached the door, he knocked twice in quick succession. He could hear the Dursleys inside, but it wasn't them he had come to see – not directly. It was the young man who opened the door.

"Hello, Harry. May I come in?"

"I don't know what to think about Dumbledore anymore," Sirius grumbled. "He tries to help Harry, but somehow, he always makes things worse. Maybe it's because he keeps everything to himself."

"Aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked, puzzled, as Dumbledore sat on the Dursleys' living room sofa.

"We will, but there are a few things we must discuss first."

Arya crossed her arms. "This should be interesting."

They watched as Dumbledore used his wand to pour tea, but Arya's eyes were drawn to his hand, which he quickly tucked back into his robe.

"What's wrong with his hand?" she asked. "It's completely black."

Harry sighed. "A curse. Dumbledore made a mistake that will eventually cost him his life."

Sirius's eyes grew in size like a Quaffle. "I can't believe it… So that's why Dumbledore died?"

"Well, Harry. Sirius' will was found, and he named you as his rightful heir, leaving you everything he owned," Dumbledore said.

"Oh. Alright."

"I would have expected a bit more enthusiasm," Sirius huffed.

Harry shook his head. "I've never cared about the gold. I would've traded all my gold for just one more day with my parents and you, Sirius."

Thiora gently patted Sirius's back as his shoulders tensed.

"However, we have a problem that we're hoping you can help solve, Harry," Dumbledore said. "The Black family tradition states that the house can only pass to the next male heir of the Blacks. Since Sirius's younger brother passed away years ago, and there are no other male descendants, it's possible the house can only be claimed by a pureblood."

Eragon turned to Harry. "Are you a pureblood, Harry?"

"No, my mother was Muggleborn. She was Petunia's sister, after all," Harry replied.

Eragon grimaced. "Right. Sorry, I forgot."

"And how do we know I've inherited the house?" Harry asked.

There was a loud crack, and a miserable little creature appeared, banging its tiny fists on the ground.

"Kreacher doesn't want to - Kreacher doesn't want to - Kreacher doesn't want to serve the Potter brat!" the elf croaked.

"He seems delighted to see you, Harry," Eragon murmured. "I think all those years alone haven't done him any favours."

"Kreacher's not so bad," Harry said with a grin. "He and I became good friends later."

Sirius snorted. "I don't believe that."

Harry shrugged. "It's true. You'll understand later, Sirius."

"Kreacher, shut your mouth!" Harry shouted.

Kreacher clutched his own throat and threw a completely silent tantrum on the Dursleys' carpet.

"Excellent! That simplifies things. Along with Kreacher, Grimmauld Place is now yours as well, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Judging by your expression, you don't look too thrilled," Thiora said, addressing Harry.

Harry snorted. "You've seen how ancient that house is… Besides, it'll always remind me of Sirius."

"Since Sirius' legacy is clearly in good hands," Dumbledore said, turning his attention to the Dursleys, "we can move on to the next matter. Harry will come of age in one year-"

"No, he won't," Aunt Petunia interrupted. "Dudders is older than the boy and won't turn eighteen until the year after."

"Ah, but in the wizarding world, one comes of age at seventeen. And age, after all, is just a number. It's our experiences that shape us, and Harry has already had more than enough of those… But to be brief, Lord Voldemort has returned, and the wizarding community is now in an open state of war. Your nephew is, of course, at the centre of it all, as Lord Voldemort has tried and failed to kill him multiple times," Dumbledore explained matter-of-factly.

"I don't think they even remotely understand what's going on," Arya said.

Sirius snorted. "Just look at Vernon's red face. If he's not careful, he'll explode."

"Harry is in even greater danger these days than he was when I left him on your doorstep with a letter explaining what had happened to Lily and James," Dumbledore said.

"Am I the only one who thinks a single letter wasn't enough?" Eragon asked.

"No, you're not," Thiora said angrily.

"You didn't do what I asked of you. You never treated Harry like a son. All he's known in this house is neglect and cruelty," Dumbledore said sternly.

Arya's eyes narrowed. "And who could have prevented that, had they bothered to check even once in all those years how he was doing?"

Oromis nodded, his gaze distant. "We should count ourselves lucky that Harry hasn't suffered the same damage his cousin has, unfortunately."

Sirius shook his head. "I think you underestimate who Harry's mother was. She was such a kind, compassionate witch, someone who always saw the good in others - even when they didn't deserve it," Sirius murmured, his gaze lowered as Thiora pulled him into a comforting embrace. "Lily's blood runs strong in Harry. It would never have allowed him to become so cruel."

"And what about James?" Thiora asked.

"James was the most loyal person I've ever met. Just like Harry, he would never abandon his friends. He is far too stubborn for that," Sirius laughed.

Harry tilted his head to the side and smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Arya nudged him with her shoulder. "You should."

Horace Slughorn reminded Arya of the kind of people who wielded influence solely for their own benefit while fleeing from danger like a hunted rabbit. She cast a fleeting glance at Harry, who was intently watching Dumbledore and Slughorn.

It amused her slightly how Dumbledore completely unsettled Slughorn with his absurdly calm demeanour, leaving Slughorn floundering for a response. And when Harry unwittingly steered the conversation towards his mother, Arya realized why Dumbledore had brought him along.

Harry was, in a way, the person Slughorn had been waiting for his entire life. A full package of everything he ever wanted. It was no surprise, then, that Slughorn allowed himself to be persuaded, walking straight into Dumbledore's carefully laid trap.

Dumbledore truly had the cunning of an elf. Arya couldn't deny that, especially as they left Slughorn's home. She watched as Dumbledore, with lightning speed, drew his wand and sent a red flash at Harry, who collapsed unconscious.

Everything went black, and then they were back at Hogwarts.

Still, Arya wasn't sure what to make of Snape now teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was arguably the most important subject in the fight against the Death Eaters. If he taught it with the same attitude he had toward Potions, Arya couldn't see how the students would learn anything - unless Harry took matters into his own hands again.

And Harry already had enough to worry about.

At least Harry finally had a proper Potions class. Maybe they could even try to brew Galbatorix a Draught of Living Death. That would give them enough time to deal with Morzan and Shruikan… But she dismissed the idea immediately. Galbatorix had surrounded himself with layers of protective enchantments for decades; there was no way to catch him off guard with such a potion.

And then there was Nott Junior… No, Galbatorix would already know about such potions, making it foolish to attack him in that way.

But before they even faced Galbatorix, there was still a long road ahead. And until then, Arya would watch Harry struggle to brew the Draught of Living Death following the Half-Blood Prince's instructions.

Something that greatly displeased Hermione, as Harry's daring seemed to succeed. Arya knew neither Harry nor Hermione had the faintest idea why Harry's potion was better than Hermione's - Snape had never tried to explain it to them - but Hermione's snide remarks about Harry's success revealed her jealous streak.

And of course, Harry ended up winning a vial of Felix Felicis. Arya could already sense that Harry would only give up the book reluctantly, and Hermione would lecture him about it every chance she got.

She only hoped Hermione wouldn't get the idea to make the book disappear behind Harry's back.

The images before her blurred, and when they came back into focus, Arya found herself at the Burrow, where Harry walked across the Weasleys' yard beside the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Once again, the Minister presented himself as someone he was not.

Arya rolled her eyes as she listened to the Minister's painfully obvious attempts to recruit Harry to his side. Even Harry, whose political instincts at the time were akin to those of a newborn dragon, saw through the lies and openly defied the Ministry.

Harry had not forgotten. He would not speak their lies.

"What did Dumbledore do to you?" Sirius demanded of Harry.

Harry scratched his chin. "He took me to Gringotts. In exchange for a lot of gold and a few valuable books from Dumbledore, they tried to sever the connection between me and Voldemort."

"Is that how you learned about the ritual you used on Oromis?" Thiora asked.

Harry nodded. "Though I only saw it later as a memory. I was unconscious the entire time... Not that it made any difference."

"Of course, they wouldn't bother talking to you about it," Arya said, exasperated.

"Why did you reject the Minister's offer?" Eragon asked, puzzled.

"For similar reasons as to why I refused to swear an oath to Nasuada," Harry said. "Scrimgeour wasn't interested in what I had to say. He just wanted to use me as a symbol."

Eragon frowned and carefully asked, "Is it so bad to be a symbol of hope for people when they have none of their own?"

Harry scoffed. "I've been a symbol my whole life. You've seen how they all stare at my scar and call me 'The Boy Who Lived,' as if I can solve all their problems. Yet no one bothered to check on me after Voldemort killed my parents. Once the danger is gone, no one cares about you, no matter what symbol you once were to them."

"That's a very pessimistic outlook, Finiarel," Oromis said.

Harry turned to Oromis. "Is it? The Dragon Riders maintained peace among the peoples of Alagaёsia and stood for harmony and progress for centuries... and only a few decades later, hardly any humans or dwarves even remember them. We're nothing but relics of a forgotten time."

He touched his scar, which throbbed faintly. Harry could feel hatred boiling slowly inside him. "I was done being a puppet, and that's exactly what Scrimgeour wanted me to be. I knew the type of man he was right away. He wasn't like Fudge, but he still tried to create the illusion that everything was fine - that the Ministry could handle Voldemort. But as always, they lied."

"When-?" Eragon began, but Arya stepped forward.

"Stan Shunpike was arrested for supposedly being a Death Eater," Arya said. "He was-"

"Accused because he talked in a pub about some supposed Death Eater plot and then thrown into Azkaban," Harry finished.

"Wasn't he the conductor of the Knight Bus?" Sirius asked before turning to Arya. "And how do you know about this?"

Arya shrugged. "Harry told me a lot about the Death Eaters while he was teaching me spells with his wand."

Sirius glanced over at Harry and waggled his eyebrows. "With his wand, huh - OUCH!"

He rubbed his left cheek as Thiora withdrew her hand. "Did you just pinch me?!"

Thiora pursed her lips. "And if you don't behave, next time it'll be more than a pinch!"

Sirius raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! It won't happen again, Marauder's honour!"

Thiora glared at him. "We'll see how long that lasts."

Arya and Harry rolled their eyes, while Eragon seemed lost in thought.

"I still think it would've been worth trying," Eragon said.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't want to be a puppet, especially not under someone I knew. And even then - who's to say how Scrimgeour might've changed? War changes all of us," Harry said, tapping his temple.

Eragon felt like he was swallowing dry sand. Ever since entering Ellesméra, the feeling had grown that swearing an oath to Nasuada had been a mistake. What would happen if she made decisions he couldn't agree with?

He shook his head. There was no point in agonizing over past actions; only a fool would do that. Besides, he had also pledged himself to the dwarves by joining the Ingeitum. And above all, he still had Saphira...

He felt like a hare being hunted by a dragon. He couldn't do anything against the dragon, and if he wasn't careful where he stepped, he would be discovered and devoured. If that were to happen, there would only be one place left where he could have enough freedom to protect himself... and that was the burrow, his home.

"I still can't believe Dumbledore only showed you memories of Voldemort," Sirius grumbled in disappointment, waving his arms wildly. "I was hoping for more bang and pow!"

"That's not as far-fetched as it seems," Oromis said. "You need to know your enemy well to discover their weaknesses."

Harry nodded. "Artemis would say something like, 'He who doesn't know his prey becomes the prey.' But believe me, Sirius, I was just as disappointed as you," he said with a grin.

"I wonder if we should do the same with Galbatorix," Eragon mused.

"What exactly do you mean?" Thiora asked.

Eragon shrugged. "Finding out who he was or how he became the monster he is today. Maybe we'd discover why his power grows stronger every year - or even his true name!"

Arya shook her head before Oromis could respond. "That's not possible. Galbatorix personally killed all his former masters, and his true name is an open secret."

Harry blinked. "Does that mean someone discovered Galbatorix's true name?"

"Yes," Arya replied. "But he has protected it with magic so that anyone who uncovers it is killed by him in a way we don't fully understand. Few dare to seek the oathbreaker's true name anymore."

"And I can tell you this much: it's a slow and painstaking process with little chance of success," Oromis sighed.

Eragon stared at Oromis with his mouth open. "Does that mean you're one of the few still searching for his name?"

Oromis nodded, and Harry glanced worriedly at his teacher. "Please be careful, Master."

Oromis' grey eyes sparkled. "Your concern is valid, Harry. But as Arya said, there are only a few of us left, and uncovering the true nature of someone is a challenging puzzle that requires great patience, especially when observing from a great distance."

"A very dangerous puzzle," Sirius muttered. "But maybe we should go back to Dumbledore's memories. I didn't hear much about the Gaunt's from my grandfather - just that over generations, they lost all their status and wealth. It's no surprise they ended up the way they did, especially when I think of my dear mother."

"Why is that?" Eragon asked.

"Well, I'm sure every possession of the Blacks was more important to her than the life of her son," Sirius said dryly.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Harry snorted. "But I'd correct you, Sirius. It wasn't her son - sons. I'm certain she would've been very disappointed in Regulus too."

Sirius looked at Harry, puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry waved him off. "You'll find out soon enough. And you shouldn't hear it from me anyway."

"I'm not sure I want to know," Sirius said, closing his eyes.

"Well, whether you want to or not it won't be your decision," Harry said with a smile. "After all, it's my memory, and you were dead at the time."

Sirius flinched guiltily. "Bastard."

"We already established my parents were married... or do you need a reminder?" Harry asked, dramatically raising a fist.

Before things could escalate, Arya stepped between them. "Boys, stop it. There's no point in butting heads like wild animals!"

Harry sighed. "You're right... Maybe we should get back to Voldemort's memories. Dumbledore showed me exactly six during the school year, while I found the seventh on my own."

Thiora frowned. "And they were all about Voldemort?"

Harry nodded seriously. "They were always about Voldemort, even if it wasn't clear at first. For example, in the first memory, Ogden, a Ministry employee, visited Voldemort's maternal family because Morfin, the brother of Voldemort's mother, Merope Gaunt, had cursed a Muggle."

"Just like that?" Eragon asked.

Harry shook his head. "The Muggle Morfin cursed was none other than Voldemort's father."

"To think he's a half-blood," Sirius said, shaking his head so his curls fell into his face. "The Death Eaters really were nothing but cowardly, power-hungry leeches who just followed the next strongest leader."

"I often wonder if it was power the oathbreakers wanted too," Eragon murmured. "But was it worth betraying everything they swore to protect?"

For the first time, Oromis let his shoulders sag, and his face looked truly old and weary. "We can only speculate about the reasons the oathbreakers betrayed us, but one thing is certain: never underestimate Galbatorix's powers of persuasion. Long before he lost his dragon, he already had the tongue of a serpent."

"At least he can't speak Parseltongue," Arya muttered. "Voldemort inherited that ability from his mother, didn't he?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly, and it's not the only thing he inherited from her."

Arya looked at Harry in brief confusion, and then her eyes widened. "You mean the ring and the locket he showed Ogden! He also said they came from the Peverells-"

Arya stopped when Harry lowered his gaze at the name. "Harry?" she asked gently. "Is something wrong?"

Harry looked up again and gave her a weak smile. "No, it's nothing... significant. Anyway, those two heirlooms were far more important to Marvolo Gaunt, Merope's father, than his own blood. And they eventually ended up in Voldemort's possession."

"Why? What happened to them?" Sirius asked.

"The ring stayed with Morfin Gaunt, who returned to the Gaunt house after his time in Azkaban until Voldemort came and killed the Riddle family," Harry explained.

"The murders the gardener Frank was blamed for," Thiora recalled.

Harry nodded. "But the wizards at the Ministry knew they'd been killed by magic, so they went to the nearest wizard, and Morfin confessed to the crime."

Eragon frowned. "But Voldemort killed them... unless he framed Morfin! How did he get Morfin to confess?"

Harry tapped his temple with a finger. "Voldemort implanted a false memory of killing the Riddles into Morfin's mind. He altered his memory so completely that Morfin truly believed he'd done it, while the real memory was buried deep within."

Oromis rubbed his nose again as it began to itch intensely.

"And no one would bother to verify it," Sirius grumbled. "It wasn't any different with me."

"Exactly. That's how the ring ended up in Voldemort's possession, while the locket took a slight detour," Harry explained. "Merope, desperate as she was when she was pregnant, tried to sell the locket for gold."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "She sold Salazar's locket? She must have gotten a fortune for it. Anyone in my family would've paid her handsomely to own something of Slytherin's."

Harry gave Sirius a long look. "Burke bought it from her."

Sirius slapped a hand over his face. "That greedy idiot! If he'd given her enough Galleons for it, we might never have had to deal with Voldemort at all."

"How did Slytherin's locket end up in Voldemort's hands then?" Arya asked.

"A witch bought it from Burke. Her name was Hepzibah Smith-"

"Smith!" Sirius laughed. "That family is full of false pride. There was even a rumour they were descended from Hufflepuff, which is, of course, nothing but hot air."

"Still, she owned both Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup," Harry said.

"What?!" Sirius stared at him.

Harry shrugged. "You heard me. I don't know if they're actually descendants of Hufflepuff, but she had two relics from the founders of Hogwarts. And when Voldemort started working at Borgin & Burkes"

Sirius snorted. "This gets crazier by the minute. I can't picture Voldemort holding down a job."

Harry grinned as well. "Anyway, he charmed the naive Hepzibah. In the end, she showed him the relics, and that sealed her fate. Two days after the memory, she was found dead, poisoned by her house-elf, Hokey."

"I take it he pinned it on Hokey, just like he did with Morfin?" Oromis asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes. Hokey confessed, just like Morfin. Why would anyone at the Ministry question it if the house-elf confessed? After that, Voldemort disappeared with the Hogwarts relics for many years and didn't resurface until he asked Dumbledore for a job as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Tom Riddle doesn't strike me as someone with the patience to work with children. Why did he want to teach at Hogwarts?" Arya asked. "What was his goal?"

"Well, it would've been the perfect place to influence young witches and wizards," Harry said thoughtfully. "But more importantly, he wanted to hide something at Hogwarts."

"And you're not going to tell us what it is, are you?" Eragon asked sarcastically.

Harry grinned. "No, that would be boring."

"What about Slughorn's memory? You mentioned it earlier," Sirius said.

Harry looked at all of them thoughtfully. "I'll only show you the real memory," he decided.

"The real one?" Arya asked.

Harry sighed. "Horace made many mistakes in his life… and he regretted them, but none as much as the advice he gave Voldemort when he was still his student."

"What exactly did he tell him?" Eragon asked.

"Good evening, Professor."

Slughorn jumped, placing a hand on his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. "By Merlin's beard, Harry! You gave me quite a fright. What are you doing here?"

"I'm talking to you," Harry said cheerfully.

Arya's lips curled slightly into a grin, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "What's gotten into you? You seem so… happy."

"Hard to imagine, isn't it?" Harry laughed. "But no, I had a sip of Felix Felicis."

"Liquid luck!" Oromis murmured.

Harry nodded. "Exactly. It was Ron's idea to use it to get Slughorn's memory."

"I can see that," Slughorn chuckled. "But why are you here? Surely you have a meeting with some witch in one of the countless broom cupboards," Slughorn said with a wink.

Arya's eyes narrowed, and her grin vanished.

"Oh, I'm not interested in witches at the moment, Professor," Harry grinned. "But I'm heading to the Chamber of Secrets. Care to join me?"

"J-Join you?" Slughorn blinked.

"Didn't Slughorn know you killed a basilisk?" Thiora asked. "I'd have thought he'd interrogated every teacher at Hogwarts about you."

"The Chamber… I thought that was just a rumour – so it's true, my boy? Isn't it dangerous?"

Harry tilted his head. "No, the basilisk is dead."

Slughorn's eyes gleamed. "I-Is it still down there, then?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, sir. No one but Ron and me has been down there since."

"Slughorn doesn't even realize he's walking into a trap," Sirius laughed.

"The basilisk – Slytherin's monster – must've been enormous," Slughorn said absently, muttering under his breath. "A fortune must be buried down there."

"What was that, Professor?" Harry asked.

Slughorn quickly shook his head. "So, Harry, you really want to go to the Chamber of Secrets? Where Slytherin's monster lies dead? And you're planning to go alone?"

Harry nodded at each question, and Slughorn puffed out his chest proudly. "I can't allow that, my boy. Not alone – no. But if you've inherited even a fraction of Lily's determination, there's no talking you out of it, is there?" Slughorn laughed, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Well then, my boy. I'll join you. Let Dumbledore dare say I don't care for my students!"

"That was… surprisingly easy," Eragon observed. "He's really greedy."

"You underestimate what it means for a Slytherin to step into Salazar's legendary chamber," Sirius said thoughtfully. "If I'm not mistaken, Harry and Voldemort are the only ones to have ever found it. That alone would intrigue Slughorn, not to mention the dead basilisk."

"A vial of basilisk venom would fetch a fortune in the right hands. And who knows what else is down there besides a dead snake," Sirius added.

"Harry, my boy, this is… truly, I've never seen anything like it," Slughorn said, his eyes alight with excitement as they stood in the Chamber of Secrets before the basilisk's corpse.

"Truly magnificent," Slughorn said, his hand trembling as he touched the cold, dead skin of the enormous snake.

"I'd have thought the basilisk's body would've started decaying by now," Harry muttered.

Slughorn shook his head, the sound of clinking glass vials coming from his robes. "A basilisk is a magical creature, my boy. As you likely know, it was Herpo the Foul who created the first basilisk. I can't tell you how, but it must have been ancient magic that still flows through their veins," Slughorn explained. "That same magic also protects a basilisk from hostile spells. The only thing more dangerous in the wild might be a fully grown dragon."

"He's not wrong there. Saphira would love to find such a fat deer as Slughorn in the wild," Eragon laughed, and Harry burst out laughing as Oromis shook his head slightly.

"I know someone… an old friend. He'd certainly be willing to craft a cloak or two from this snake's skin. Basilisk hide is very rare and valuable."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked curiously.

Slughorn tugged at his collar uncomfortably. "Well, I've seen and experienced much in my life."

"A very vague answer," Thiora said.

"Just like everything you elves say. Ol' Sluggy would fit right in," Sirius grinned casually.

"Just because a human speaks ambiguously doesn't make him sound like an elf, Sirius," Thiora smiled.

"Slughorn certainly isn't part of a beautiful race," Harry chimed in. Arya cleared her throat beside him, raising her eyebrows as Harry merely winked at her.

Harry bent down and picked up a broken tooth, his arm tingling as he held it. "I've seen and experienced a lot too," Harry murmured quietly.

"You can say that again," Sirius grumbled.

Slughorn appeared at a loss for words. "Yes, truly awful – what happened to your parents, indeed. Do you… have any memory of that night?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "When I was little, I only dreamed of a green light. But when the Dementors came, I heard my mother's voice begging Voldemort not to kill me. He showed me the memory when he tortured me in the graveyard. I saw her die-"

"May Voldemort be cursed for eternity," Arya hissed, and the others wore icy expressions.

Slughorn closed his eyes, pained by the memories. "STOP…!" A tear rolled down his cheek. "Please stop, my boy. L-Lily was an extraordinary witch… So brave – I've never met anyone like her in my entire life. It's terrible she had to leave us!"

"That's true," Harry whispered, turning around. In his hand, he held the basilisk tooth, looking down at Slughorn, who had fallen to his knees. "I never really got to know my parents."

Heavy sobs echoed off the walls, and it took several moments for Slughorn to gather the strength to look up.

"You said you cared for my mother, Professor," Harry said, kneeling down next to Slughorn. "But right now, you're doing nothing but dishonouring her final act of courage. She protected me with her life, and you're doing everything to protect your own."

Slughorn licked his dry lips. "Is that so wrong?"

"Typical Slytherin," Sirius growled.

"No, but it's cowardly," Harry said bluntly, holding the basilisk tooth before Slughorn's eye. "I would've given my life to save a friend's sister, and I'd do it again to stand against Voldemort."

"I hope you've stopped doing that by now," Arya remarked quietly. Harry gave her a weak smile in response.

"But there's no hope! None!" Slughorn cried.

Harry stared into Slughorn's eyes and saw a broken, old man. But deep within, he saw a spark of hope – a light.

"There's always hope, Professor," Harry whispered. "You just have to believe in it – you have to believe in me."

Slughorn turned away, shaking his head. "I-I can't do it."

Harry sighed and said, "It's true, there is a prophecy. I'm the Chosen One." Slughorn's eyes widened.

"Wasn't it risky to tell Slughorn about that?" Eragon asked.

"I didn't see another way to convince him," Harry said. "And if Voldemort hasn't killed him yet, it's unlikely he'll do so in the future."

"You – you're the one?" Slughorn stammered.

Harry stood up, warmth spreading through his chest. For the first time, he truly believed he could defeat Voldemort. "Of course, I am. Why else hasn't Voldemort managed to kill me yet?"

"Because Harry is too stubborn to just die," Thiora smirked.

"Or because he's an idiot," Eragon suggested.

Slughorn lowered his head. "I don't know."

"But you know something… and I need to know, Professor or everything was in vain. Lily Potter died for nothing otherwise."

Harry held out his hand to Slughorn. "Be brave, Professor. Be brave like my mother."

Slughorn closed his eyes and took Harry's hand. Harry helped him up, and he stared at Harry with a pale face. Slowly, he raised his wand to his temple.

Arya looked aside and then back at Harry. "You really continue to surprise me."

"I'm not proud of it…" he whispered. "I'm ashamed of what I've done. I caused so much damage that day."

"We can defeat him," Harry said. "I know it."

Barely perceptibly, Slughorn nodded. Very slowly, he pulled a thin, silver thread from his temple and placed it in an empty glass vial.

He pressed the vial into Harry's hand, which Harry grasped tightly. Slughorn took a trembling breath and pulled his hand away.

"You – you don't mind if I look around a bit longer, do you, Harry?"

Harry grinned widely. "Not at all, Professor."

"After that, I ran to Dumbledore with Slughorn's memory, and we watched it together," Harry said slowly.

"And? Come on, tell us!" Sirius leaned forward eagerly.

"Alright, alright," Harry muttered. "In the memory, Voldemort asked Slughorn about Horcruxes. Unfortunately, Slughorn gave him the answers he was looking for."

"Horace Slughorn knew how to create a Horcrux?" Oromis asked, surprised.

"No, he didn't. I'm pretty sure Voldemort already knew that part. No, he wanted to know something else, something no book could tell him."

"What did he ask?" Arya inquired.

"What would happen if someone created more than one Horcrux - if someone split their soul into seven pieces," Harry replied, his voice steady as he met their shocked gazes.

"Seven?" Oromis whispered in disbelief. "He split his soul seven times and made seven Horcruxes?"

"He intentionally made six Horcruxes," Harry clarified. "The seventh piece of his soul was meant to remain in his body."

"I remember," Arya said suddenly. "You mentioned the diary was a Horcrux that he used to open the Chamber of Secrets. What were the others?"

"The locket and the cup!" Eragon exclaimed excitedly.

Harry nodded with a hint of pride and began counting on his fingers. "Exactly. Slytherin's locket, the diary, Hufflepuff's cup, the Gaunt family ring, Ravenclaw's diadem, and Nagini."

Thiora wrinkled her nose. "The snake?"

"Yes, probably another symbol of his connection to Slytherin," Harry said.

"Wait - did you just say Ravenclaw's diadem?" Sirius gasped. "The diadem that's been lost for centuries? That one?"

"We found it," Harry said flatly.

"That's an enormous task," Oromis observed. "And all the Horcruxes had to be destroyed before Voldemort could be defeated?"

Harry shrugged. "That's how it was. But it wasn't entirely hopeless since I had already destroyed the diary, and Dumbledore had destroyed another - the ring."

"Where did he find it?" Oromis asked.

"In the Gaunt shack," Harry replied.

"So, he hid his Horcruxes in places that were significant to him," Oromis concluded. "And they were likely well-protected."

"Exactly. That's also why Dumbledore's hand was black - he made a mistake that ended up costing him his life."

"Why his life?" Sirius asked, and then his eyes widened. "The curse was trapped in his hand?"

Harry nodded. "And it was only a matter of time before it spread. By then, Dumbledore only had a few months left to live."

Sirius muttered a quiet curse. "Damn. I never imagined Dumbledore could die. He was always old, sure, but he was Dumbledore…"

"I know, Sirius," Harry murmured. "I know."

"So, Voldemort tore his soul into seven pieces… six Horcruxes, two of which have already been destroyed," Sirius said, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"The soul should be untouchable. It goes against nature to manipulate it, let alone tear it into pieces," Arya said, rubbing her arms. She cast a worried glance at Harry.

"And yet Voldemort did it, multiple times," Harry said. "Even Herpo the Foul never dared to split his soul more than once. I think with every Horcrux Voldemort became more ruthless and inhuman until he turned into the pitiful creature he ended up as."

"Pitiful?" Eragon asked.

"Yes, pitiful. He never understood what he had done. He never regretted his actions. But if he had, he wouldn't have been able to create a Horcrux in the first place," Harry explained.

"And how did you figure out the rest of the Horcruxes?" Thiora asked.

"Dumbledore thought he had located the next one. It was in a cave where Voldemort once took children from the orphanage," Harry said.

"Children?" Thiora murmured, horrified. "What did he do to them?"

"Something so terrible they never spoke of it," Harry said darkly.

"Would you like to come with me tonight, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Yes," Harry answered far too quickly. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?" Eragon said.

"I was very upset," Harry defended himself.

"IT WAS SNAPE!" Harry shouted angrily. "He told Voldemort about the prophecy and eavesdropped at the door! That's what Trelawney told me!"

"That was Snape?" Sirius asked, his voice trembling with rage. Only Thiora holding his hand seemed to keep him from doing something rash.

"Professor, how can you be sure Snape is on your side?" Harry asked with a dark look.

"I trust Severus Snape completely."

"You can't be serious," Sirius laughed bitterly. "All this time, I thought he had something solid against Snape, but that's it?"

Thiora shot Oromis a warning look as he seemed about to speak, but he held back.

"I don't want to discuss this further tonight, understood?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry over his half-moon glasses.

"I didn't mean to-" Harry murmured, slightly ashamed.

"So, I ask you again: Do you want to join me tonight to search for one of Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Good. But I will only take you on one condition: You must obey every command I give you immediately and without question."

"I can't imagine that was easy for you, Harry," Arya murmured.

"It wasn't," Harry admitted quietly.

"We're in the right place," Dumbledore said, standing in the middle of a cave.

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"There is magic here," Dumbledore said simply.

"Magic leaves traces. Especially dark magic," Eragon murmured, recalling past lessons. Harry nodded in agreement.

"How primitive," Dumbledore said, disappointed.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I'm afraid we'll need to pay a price for passage. Blood, if I'm not mistaken."

"With all we've learned so far, it doesn't surprise me that Voldemort would protect his Horcrux this way," Oromis said. "He wants to know who has uncovered his secret, and he weakens his enemies in the process."

"Let's proceed," Dumbledore said. "Be careful not to step into the water."

With an explosive noise, something large and pale burst out of the lake.

"That was a corpse," Arya said, horrified. "Are there bodies in the lake?"

"Inferi. I hate this place so much," Harry muttered, closing his eyes. He felt a rough hand brush his fingertips and knew it was Arya's. He squeezed it tightly, and she returned the gesture without hesitation.

Together, they watched as Dumbledore found the boat, and they crossed the lake.

"This is truly disgusting," Sirius said, turning to Harry and Arya, who were standing side by side. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I can only conclude that the potion must be drunk," Dumbledore said, gazing at the emerald-green liquid.

"He's not seriously going to drink it, is he?" Eragon asked. "It must be poison - it'll kill him!"

Harry shook his head. "You don't understand how Voldemort thinks, Eragon. He sees himself as unbeatable, and as Oromis said earlier, if there's even the slightest chance someone uncovers his secret, he wants to know who it was and how they did it."

"Do you remember the condition under which I brought you here?"

"Yes, but-"

"I warned you it could be dangerous. This is my order."

"Why can't I drink the potion?" Harry asked desperately.

"Because I am much older, wiser, and far less valuable than you are."

"I don't always understand Dumbledore," Sirius said, shaking his head. "He praises you in one breath, only to put you down in the next. But I agree with him here. You are more valuable than he is, Harry - and not because you're the Chosen One."

Sirius saw the incredulous look on Harry's face. "Of course you are! Just being Lily and James's son makes you special. And don't forget, you're also my godson! Be proud of who you are!"

Harry was at a loss for words, so he could only nod heavily in gratitude.

"To your health, Harry," Dumbledore said, raising the first goblet of potion.

Dumbledore drank one goblet after another. By the fourth, his entire body trembled, and he breathed heavily. His eyes were shut tight, his face contorted as if trapped in a nightmare.

"I don't… want to… let it stop," Dumbledore groaned.

"Professor… you must keep going, remember…" Harry urged, hating himself for saying it.

"Harry…" Arya murmured, horrified, as Harry squeezed her hand tightly. She returned the gesture without hesitation. They watched helplessly as Dumbledore continued to drink, each goblet worsening his condition.

"This is-" Thiora began but stopped, clapping her hands over her mouth as Dumbledore's anguished screams echoed through the cave.

"What's happening to him?" Sirius asked quietly.

"The potion forces him to relive his worst memories," Harry said, his voice trembling. "For Dumbledore, it's the day his sister died."

"I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop - please, make it stop!"

"Please, Professor, you must drink-"

"Kill me!" Dumbledore screamed.

"Bloody hell," Sirius whispered, his face ashen. "I don't know if I could have done what you did, Harry. If Dumbledore was James…"

Dumbledore hastily swallowed the final goblet and collapsed.

"No!" Harry shouted, grabbing the locket and shoving it into his pocket.

"Is he… is Dumbledore dead?" Eragon asked. Harry stared at the memory; pale-faced.

"Rennervate! Rennervate! Please…"

Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered. "Water," he croaked.

"I wonder if Voldemort ever thought about that as well," Oromis whispered.

"Thought about what, Ebrithil?" Eragon asked.

Oromis pointed to the basin as Harry desperately tried to summon water. "The basin cannot hold water. So, Harry only has one option to get water."

"No!" Thiora cried out in horror as Harry approached the lake.

A chilling cold clung to his arm, the one not holding the goblet, unaffected by the freezing water.

"That's a hand!" Eragon shrieked.

"Not just one," Oromis added, watching as Harry sent dozens of spells toward the Inferi. "The lake is full of these Inferi, and they're all after Harry."

Harry struggled with an Inferius, whose slippery arms slowly closed around his neck. Another Inferius pulled at his legs, and Harry flailed as a stone fell from his pocket. With all his strength, he kicked the Inferius holding his feet in the head and sent the stone he had dropped in his direction.

Arya gasped. "Harry - That's Kenaz!"

The Inferius dragged him further into the lake while Harry grabbed the rune stone that was engraved with Kenaz. He gasped for breath and croaked, "Kenaz!"

C

White fire erupted through the darkness: snow-white flames surrounded Harry. It wasn't hot for him, but it terrified the Inferi, causing them to flee. The Inferius holding Harry released him, and Harry fell to the ground, his head hitting hard. Dizzy, he felt the fire draining his strength. He knew he could only keep the fire going for a few more seconds, but then another larger, red ring of fire erupted around them.

The white fire went out, and Harry saw Dumbledore back on his feet.

"Unbelievable," Sirius said. "And I mean both of you. That Dumbledore can still fend off so many Inferi - and you summoned fire with a rune!"

"And I've rarely felt so drained as I did with that rune," Harry said. "It felt as if I transformed all my strength into fire."

"I wonder why your fire was white. Did it already know that Artemis would eventually hatch for you?" Arya mused, still holding his hand tightly.

Harry shrugged. "Who really knows everything about magic?"

"Don't worry, sir. I'll take us back to Hogwarts," Harry said.

"I'm not worried, you're with me," Dumbledore replied.

"Oh, that was sweet," Thiora said, shaking her head. "I really don't know what to make of Dumbledore anymore."

"My respect for him has definitely diminished," Sirius grumbled.

"Is that the Dark Mark?" Eragon asked, looking at the sky over Hogwarts. The sky was filled with dark, black clouds, and with a sinking feeling, he added, "Has someone died?"

"No, no one's dead yet," Harry said grimly, his eyes fixed on the Astronomy Tower.

"These bastards will stop at nothing," Sirius grumbled. "How dare they attack Hogwarts? This is a school for children, not a battlefield. They should attack those idiots in the Ministry!"

"But there's no Dumbledore in the Ministry," Thiora pointed out. "And how do you force someone to make mistakes? By cornering them and forcing them to take risks."

They landed on their broomsticks at the Astronomy Tower. "Go, Harry, and bring Severus!"

"But-"

"You promised me, Harry! Go!"

The moment Harry tried to step through the door, he heard footsteps on the other side and, with his wand drawn, stepped back. Just as the door burst open someone shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's body immediately stiffened and became immobile. His wand sailed far out over the parapet, heading for the ground.

"But why did Dumbledore do that?" Arya said, stunned. "If he hadn't wasted time with the body-bind curse, he could have easily deflected the spell - even in his condition!"

"Because Dumbledore always has a plan," Harry growled.

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore greeted.

Sirius blinked. "Malfoy? Of all people?"

"Well, then do it, my dear," Dumbledore said calmly.

Then silence reigned.

"Do what exactly?" Eragon asked, looking at Harry with confusion. "You don't mean-"

"Yes, exactly that. And Dumbledore knew about it for months," Harry said, crossing his arms.

"He endangered students' lives, why?" Oromis asked.

"So that Dumbledore's plan could succeed. All for the greater good."

"You're the one who should be afraid!" Draco snarled angrily.

"But why?" Dumbledore said coolly. "Killing isn't nearly as easy as many people think... and forgive me the presumption, Draco. You are not a murderer, even though your attempts to kill me were miserably unsuccessful."

"Taking a life is and should never be easy," Oromis said firmly. "And Draco Malfoy is realizing that right now."

Footsteps echoed on the stairs, and a group of dark figures in cloaks stormed through the door.

"Dumbledore disarmed! Excellent, Draco!" one of them shouted excitedly.

"I would offer you tea, Amycus, but I fear my manners will be lacking this evening," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I don't like this at all," Sirius muttered, shaking his head. "Not one bit!"

"Is that Fenrir?" Dumbledore asked.

"Quite right," growled one of the Death Eaters. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity. You surely know how much I love children."

Arya's eyes widened, and her face turned ashen. "He doesn't mean-?!"

Sirius closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath, his chest trembling. "Of course, he means exactly that, Arya! That absolute bastard was the one who bit Remus!"

"Draco, do it."

But the door slammed open again, and Snape's nose met the moonlight.

"We have a problem, Snape," Amycus said. "The boy is incapable-"

Snape's black eyes flashed. "I see that."

But someone else spoke, and the pleading whisper made Harry flinch.

"Severus…"

Snape shoved Draco aside roughly, and a hard expression spread across his face.

"Severus, please…"

He raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green flash. A beam of light shot from the wand and struck Dumbledore in the chest. And he fell.

"Dumbledore is really dead," Sirius whispered, holding an arm in front of his face. He sat on the ground with his legs stretched out, leaning against Thiora, who sat behind him, draping her arms over his shoulders and pulling him tightly to her.

"I never thought Dumbledore would… could die! He always seemed so timeless, and he was always the one who gave us direction," Sirius murmured, rubbing his eyes. "And after all the crap he caused, I don't even know what to think about him anymore."

"Allow me to offer you some advice, Sirius," Oromis said, extending his hand towards him, his voice soft yet filled with quiet strength. "It is difficult when someone we saw as steadfast and wise is suddenly gone, and their mistakes plunge us into doubt. But Dumbledore was, like all of us, just a person - a person with faults, certainly with good intentions, but also with errors."

Sirius shook his head, his gaze filled with pain and confusion. "But how am I supposed to forgive him? He was Dumbledore! We all revered him, and where did it lead us?! My best friends are dead, and my godson-"

Sirius slammed his fists in frustration on the ground.

Oromis sat beside him on the floor and placed a calming hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting the mistakes. It allows us to release the burden and find our own path. What Dumbledore left behind in you is not just the chaos of his decisions but also the strength and knowledge you now carry. Turn the doubts into questions and find your own answers."

As Oromis spoke, his gaze drifted past Sirius and met Harry's eyes, and Harry knew the words were not only meant for Sirius... but for him as well.

"What a load of crap," muttered Sirius, taking Oromis' hand, who pulled him to his feet. Thiora nodded in gratitude and relief at Oromis, who answered her with a brief, warm smile.

"We all felt that way when Vrael passed into nothingness, Sirius," Thiora said softly.

"And we waited for new hope for many years," she glanced at Harry and Eragon. "Until one day, it came to us."

Eragon swallowed, while Harry merely sighed. "Come, it's time for the funeral."

Sirius shook his head. "I still can't believe that Snivellus is the one who took Dumbledore's life. Why him of all people?!"

Harry said nothing, but Arya noticed how distant he seemed. He looked torn.

But Arya couldn't take her eyes off the memories. Seeing Harry chase Snape with his wand drawn and challenge him was unsettling. But nothing hurt as much as hearing Fawkes's lament, echoing across the grounds of Hogwarts while Harry bent over Dumbledore, tears running down his face.

"But at least you found the Horcrux," Eragon tried. "That's one less!"

"But at a great cost," Oromis murmured.

Harry stood in Dumbledore's room, weighing the locket in his hand.

Arya gasped for breath. "The locket… it looks different from the one we saw in the memory. This isn't-"

He turned it over and pulled out a scrap of parchment, reading aloud.

"R.A.B.? Who is that?" Arya asked Harry, who only had eyes for one person in the room.

The door flew open, and Professor McGonagall entered, closely followed by Madame Pomfrey.

"Potter? What are you doing here?" she asked, stopping just as Fawkes flew over their heads.

He landed on Harry's shoulder, gently nudging his cheek with his beak.

"Harry, I'd like to know what you and Dumbledore did tonight," McGonagall said.

"I can't say."

"Why not?" Eragon asked, confused. "Now that Dumbledore is gone, you need all the help you can get!"

"Because I promised," Harry said. "And I keep my promises."

"You're just as stubborn as your mother," McGonagall said grimly. "Is there nothing that could change your mind?"

"No, Professor. I'm not returning to Hogwarts. I have a task that I must complete."

Professor McGonagall sighed and exchanged a brief glance with Madame Pomfrey.

"It's no use, Minerva. If Harry has made up his mind, it's nearly impossible to stop him-"

But Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened, and she held her hand to her mouth.

"Poppy, what is it?" McGonagall asked, and Harry looked confused as Madame Pomfrey repeatedly tapped McGonagall's arm.

McGonagall followed her gaze, and her eyes grew wide. She drew her wand and swished it. A glass vial appeared before Harry's eyes.

Harry followed their gaze and turned his head to the side. Fawkes stared into his eyes, and he saw small tears tracing their way through the red feathers of Fawkes.

"Phoenix tears," he whispered, gently brushing his finger through Fawkes's feathers. "Why Fawkes?"

Fawkes raised his head and looked at Harry resolutely.

"I think Fawkes knows you'll need all the help you can get with your task, Harry," McGonagall whispered. "Accept it as a gift."

Harry took the glass vial in his hand and held it under Fawkes's eyes. "I swear, I will only use it in the greatest of emergencies. I won't waste it, Fawkes."

Fawkes blinked and let out a shrill cry, and Harry felt a warmth surge through his limbs. Fawkes spread his wings, and Harry felt his talons dig into his shoulder until he pushed off from him and flew out the open window, becoming smaller in the light of the golden sunrise until he was no longer visible.

"And I didn't waste the tears either," Harry said firmly.

Arya sighed. "I wish I could thank him."

Harry looked into her sparkling green eyes. "Then I'll come with you."

Arya glanced at him confused. "Where to?"

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. He's nervous, Arya thought, and she liked the idea.

"After we defeat Galbatorix, we can set out to find Fawkes. Together if you want."

Arya stared at him and searched his eyes for something. "Promise me," she whispered.

Harry grinned. "I promise."

"Professor McGonagall? May I ask you a favour?" Harry asked.

"Of course, Potter," McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I'd like to take the Pensieve."

"What?!"