It isn't a year at Hogwarts without some drama.

And it isn't Hogwarts drama without students being placed in danger.

What can I say? I have my issues with plenty of canon's elements, but sometimes you just have to go with what works.

One.

Thomas placed his heirloom on Dumbledore's desk. "I don't think you should touch it," he said. "I think the only reason it didn't curse me is because it's . . . me." He looked up at his headmaster with an unreadable expression on his face. "You said this was made by splitting his soul in pieces? I don't think the piece in this ring can tell the difference between him and me."

Dumbledore stared at the ring in open awe.

". . . Thomas Gaunt," he murmured softly, barely loud enough to be heard, "you . . . are a genius. A mad, reckless genius." He let out a breathless little laugh. "This should not be possible. No time turner could do this. This is the true power of fae magic staring me in the face."

"I've seen the word 'horcrux' before," Thomas said, "but I didn't know what it was. I found a book that said the way to destroy one is with overwhelming force. Basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, the killing curse." He gestured randomly. "Maybe there are other ways, but those were the methods I saw mentioned."

Dumbledore was nodding. "Excellent work, Thomas. Exemplary."

"It called to me," Thomas said. "I could feel it. Pulling at me."

"The natural state of the human soul is to be complete," Dumbledore mused. "It wants to be whole."

"I don't think he only made one," Thomas said.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "Why do you say that, Thomas?"

"If he's willing to make one, he's willing to make more," Thomas said. "The more he has, the more pieces that need to be found, the safer he is from being hurt." The boy gestured dismissively. "Theoretically, anyway."

"You do not agree with this assertion, I take it?"

Thomas grimaced. "Even assuming the human soul is something separate from a person's core of power, the . . . thing we pull magic from . . . which would mean that having less soul means having less power; I mean, like you say: its natural state is whole. Splitting it into pieces must have consequences. There's no such thing as power without sacrifice. If the other me didn't account for that, he's a fool."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is very wise, Thomas. Very wise, indeed." He chuckled; his mustaches quivered. "The boy I knew was not nearly as cautious as you. Like many talented wizards, I believe he was convinced that his own skill and unique insights would see him through any hardship. Limitations and warnings were for lesser beings."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about yourself right now," he said.

Dumbledore beamed. "Is it so obvious?" He nodded again. "Yes, yes, you are very much correct. I will begin the process of working out how to deal with this . . . device. Safely." He gestured. "If I should require your assistance, I will call for you. Thank you for your service to Wizarding Britain, Mister Gaunt."

Thomas bowed. "Headmaster."

"Oh, and before I forget: fifty points to Slytherin House."

Two.

"You are certain."

Severus Snape looked up from his desk and scowled. "Headmaster, it is not out of arrogance that I have requested to teach Defense. I know the Dark Arts. I am as certain as I can be without risking a deadly curse. Do you intend to ask me to risk my life by touching this ring? If so, do it directly."

Dumbledore held up a hand as he shook his head. "No, Severus. That will not be necessary. If you say that this ring is a horcrux, then a horcrux it is." He sighed. "I had hoped, in some part of myself, that I was mistaken. That it was possible for me, and young Thomas Gaunt, to have been wrong."

"No, Headmaster," said Severus.

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Very well. I believe that our best bet at this point in time would be Fiendfyre. We should find a suitable space, away from the students, of course, to be done with this artifact as cleanly as possible."

Severus hummed thoughtfully. "You said that Merope Gaunt guessed that her father's ring would be put to this purpose. Are we, then, to put our efforts toward guesswork? Will we be seeking out suitable items to test them?"

"I do not think that will be necessary," said Dumbledore. "Thomas Gaunt is capable of . . . sensing, I suppose I would call it, what amounts to pieces of his own soul. These horcruxes do not distinguish between their creator and this boy who happens to share his bloodline."

Severus's face twisted into something ugly. "So. We are to rely on a child."

Dumbledore shrugged. "This is not the lowest I have ever sunk, Severus."

Severus's face was unreadable. "Any sin to save our community."

"Something like that, yes."

Three.

Sirius set down his chalk and turned to face his students.

"I only have a few minutes left," he said, "so we're going to leave this here. For those of you barely paying attention, just watching the clocks and waiting for me to shut up—" this earned him some nervous chuckles "—I'll summarize: witch trials, as they're known in non-magical communities, rarely target actual witches. The trials are tools of the powerful to maintain their status above the masses."

Despite Sirius's joke, most of the children were paying rapt attention.

"After all," he went on, "if the everyday folk are too busy squabbling with each other, frightened of being hexed and cursed, well . . . they aren't going to notice their so-called betters fleecing them, now, are they? This is a strategy used by all powerful people, not just the subjects of this class. My own family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, has been known to make use of these tactics. Your homework for next class is to find an example of the magical community using fear to control the public. Take care to find a real example, mind you. Don't think I won't know if you make something up. I will. All right. That's all for now. Get out of here."

As his students filed out of the room, Sirius spied the boys he'd raised, two children from two realities, as they stepped inside. Harry and Thomas watched as the final stragglers gathered up their things; they then turned their attention to Sirius.

"Well, well," he said, "if it isn't my little chaos demons. What can I do for you boys?"

"You used to work with Professor Quirrell, right?" Thomas asked.

"Before he took over Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry said.

Sirius nodded. "That's right."

"Thomas says he's been following us," Harry went on. "He's trying to hide, but he's not doing as good a job as he needs to. I never see him, but Thomas does."

"I can feel him," Thomas said.

An inkling of memory scratched at the back of Sirius's mind, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He supposed it must be a memory from his original timeline, before he met Kafell. The longer time went on, the harder it was to remember his old life.

"He's never struck me as especially paranoid," Sirius mused. "He's been markedly different since he came back from sabbatical." Rubbing his chin, Sirius clicked his tongue and started pacing about his classroom. "Far be it from me to give in to paranoia after I just got done with a lecture on non-magical hysteria, but . . . I think we need to keep an eye on that man."

"It's something to do with the older, other me," Thomas said. "I'd bet on it."

"You think so?"

Thomas nodded firmly. "He refuses to look at me. He thinks I don't notice."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. "All right," he said. "I'm gonna look into this myself. For the time being, you two go about things as normal. Act like nothing's different. If you see my former mentor do anything noteworthy, let me know. If you can't find me, tell your head of house."

Both boys nodded.

They were about to leave the room when squat little Professor Sprout came storming in, robes billowing out behind her like an autumn wind. "Professor Black," she said curtly, "you've been requested at the Headmaster's Office."

"What's this about?" Sirius asked.

Sprout glanced at Thomas, almost too quickly to notice.

"Merope Gaunt is missing."