Harry told himself that his racing heartbeat was a result of the adrenaline coursing through his veins rather than a sense of fear of what lay ahead. They'd managed to escape Hogwarts and had, for the time being, done so without being caught. That was enough to infuse anyone with a certain degree of excitement, as if they were outlaws on the run. It was made much easier to think along those lines when you ignored the guilt of going behind the backs of so many people who cared about him.

That could wait, a point he could get onboard with once the Tardis was standing in front of him and Hermione. Seeing as they were out in public, they didn't want to spend too much time outside, with the cobbled street providing the perfect spot to be spotted. In that sense, the ship represented an avenue of protection. In every other sense, the Tardis was housing what had the potential to be their doom, though it was best to ignore that line of thought.

It was easier said than done, which was showcased by the shaking of Hermione's hand as she attempted to put the key into the lock. It was a reminder that, despite her brazen show of steeliness, she was still at war with herself. It was clear to see that she didn't want to be betraying her parents, or the teachers who'd mentored them, even if they were trying to do the right thing. It made Harry feel guilty for once again involving her in one of his schemes, though she never would have allowed him to carry this out on his own.

All he could do was place a comforting hand on top of her trembling digits.

"It's okay," Harry said quietly. "Take your time."

"I…I don't want to be pitied anymore," Hermione replied, gritting her teeth in determination. "Ever since Matthew died, people have been more tentative around me. Largely, I've appreciated that. Of course I have. But it starts to grate on your nerves after a few months."

"Tell me about it. Try living with it for the entirety of your life."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. "Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. What must you think of me?"

"I think you're incredibly brave for going through with this."

It was a point he'd failed to consider amidst the adventure of sneaking out of Hogwarts. The Tardis was still the home of their lost friend, of Hermione's lost boyfriend. It was still difficult for them to talk about it, let alone approach it. He should have factored in that complication, the emotional location making them vulnerable to whatever ploys the cursed horcrux had up its nonexistent sleeves. Perhaps, by pretending to be confident in front of Hermione, he could convince the artefact of the same thing.

"I haven't gone through with anything yet," she pointed out. "I'm falling at the first hurdle."

"The Hermione I know never trips up at that stage. She's too stubborn for that."
"I'm going to believe that you meant that as a compliment."

"It sounded better in my head, let's leave it at that."

"It's just…I can understand people's pity when they look at me, but it starts to twist your own perceptions of yourself, doesn't it? By doing this, I can convince myself that I don't need their pity anymore."

"If it's any help, Matthew would have fully supported this insane plan."

She smirked. "He would have been the first one through the fireplace. But he'd also be here to give us both a much needed shove. Like in our First Year, with the trapdoor. It's a good job that he'd mastered the Cushioning Charm by that stage. Maybe…it's time I realise that…that shove isn't going to come anymore. Not from him. I have to provide it myself."

And so, taking a breath, Hermione twisted the key and the doors creaked open. It felt like a big moment, though small in comparison to the effort it took to physically walk over the threshold. The console room was dark, even gloomier than when they'd last seen it. Harry couldn't help but acknowledge the pang of sadness he felt at the sight, having witnessed the Tardis at its full glory at certain stages in the past. Now that its owner had gone, it was a shadow of its former self.

"She's dying, isn't she?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I don't know whether the ship was alive to begin with."

Harry was trying to comfort his friend, which explained the bare-faced lie he'd provided her with. They both knew that, somehow, the Tardis was a sentient creation. They could tell that from its temperamental nature, refusing to provide a bump-free journey. They could tell that from the way Matthew had spoken to it lovingly, whether they were to witness it or not. And that's why it hurt so much now to see it on its last legs.

"Oh, she was. She is. She still is. I don't want to give up on her just yet. She's got a personality. A confrontational one at that."

"Matthew always said you were alike."

"Again, I'm doing my best to see that as a compliment. You really need to work on your praise."

"I feel as if I've gotten better over the years. Not that it was a high bar to begin with."

Her smile was faint as she wandered towards the console. "The Tardis is imbued with pure magic. That's how she's able to go from one place to another. That's how she was able to restrict Voldemort's invasion of your mind. But she's losing that magic because it came from her connection to Matthew. I'm certain of that. He's not here to provide her with the energy she needs. Soon, she'll be nothing more than a monument to his legacy, and something so lifeless could never showcase what Matthew was like."

"Do you think that, if we unlock our pure magic on a larger scale, we'd be able to fuel her instead?" Harry proposed.

"It's a nice thought. One I'm going to cling onto. And it means it's a good thing that we're here to do exactly that."

"How are you feeling about that?"

"Let's just see if my opinion changes when we're face to face with the horcrux."

The implication was that the horcrux had a face to begin with. In a literal sense, it certainly didn't boast such a feature. But they'd both seen what such an item was capable of. When they'd stood against the locket, it had produced the ghosts of the past to taunt and distract its potential destroyers. Would the ring do the same thing? Harry couldn't stop worrying about the prospect of seeing a spectral version of Matthew, brought back to his home one last time in a twisted turn of fate.

"Do you remember where you put it?"

Hermione scoffed. "I might be struggling, but my memory isn't that bad, Harry."

There'd been the temptation to store the artefact as deep as possible within the Tardis, but that had come with myriad complications. Whilst it would have made it nigh on impossible for any intruders to find it (that was if they could even get into the box to begin with), it would have also been fairly difficult for them to retrace their steps too. The ship had the funny knack of seemingly changing its layout depending on the whim of its feelings, which meant they could have easily gotten lost, with the vital horcrux nowhere to be found.

Which was why Hermione stepped ever closer to the console, preparing her wand for the task ahead. A soft incantation made the tip glow, along with the corresponding compartment of the controls. The light of her magic was a stark contrast to the gloomy surroundings, and it almost made it feel as if the Tardis was returning to its true strength. That was a hollow conception, however, with the machine simply responding to the preordained instructions.

A section opened with a hiss, perhaps revealing a link to the very heart of the ship. If they'd been facing something more mundane, Harry might have pondered what that looked like, what source of energy could power something so magnificent. Yet his attention was promptly stolen by the ring that soon floated into view, reverently being captured by Hermione's spell. It was a slow journey and his friend looked to be struggling even more now that the horcrux was out in the open.

It was a result of that that led to the artefact dropping to the floor, the spell finally wearing off. Hermione cursed herself, as if she'd failed in some way. Harry was quick to gently pat her on the back, knowing how intune she was to the sheer evil force of the ring. It was no wonder that she was gritting her teeth, her entire body reacting negatively to its presence. Even Harry could feel it wanting to reach out towards him, luring him in.

As was the case with the other horcruxes, he felt an odd connection to the item. The diary had come close to persuading him to steal it, Harry could clearly remember that. And the locket had practically whispered in his ear as if it were speaking directly to him at times. He wondered whether that was just like what Hermione was going through. He wondered whether that meant he'd actually honed his pure magical abilities more than he'd realised. Because considering any other explanation was a dark road to be heading down.

"How do you think we go about this?" he asked.

"We can't risk touching it," she explained. "I think that's what it wants us to do."

"I'm getting that too. It's like…it needs me to put it on."

He must have been looking at it in almost a hungry fashion, because Hermione was promptly giving him a nudge, as if to wake him from those thoughts. The growing sense of dread crept up on Harry. How could it so easily corrupt his consciousness? That was without being physically connected to it, as well. What would it be like to try it on? Maybe it was best to find out, as if it was some sort of scientific test. And then he realised those weren't necessarily his own thoughts talking to him, and he shook his head again.

"You can't listen to that temptation, Harry. I'm almost certain that it has a different defence mechanism compared to the locket. The previous horcrux tried to conceptualise people we felt guilt towards. Perhaps this one has a more literal punishment for stealing it."

"Poison?"

"Or a hex. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that it'd seal your fate as soon as you slid it on your finger. It's no wonder that it's so hell bent on trying to convince us."

"Can you hear it speaking too?" Harry risked asking, knowing that it had the potential to make him look insane.

"I can't understand most of it, but the general idea is clear to see. There's every chance that it's communicating in Parseltongue, which is why you're proving to be so vulnerable to it."

"And here I was thinking that that was one of the only gifts Voldemort bestowed upon me. Along with the scar."

"All we have to do is use our magic to destroy the ring without touching it."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Why can't it be? What if Voldemort put all of his energy into the curse as a form of protection that he neglected the notion of physical shields?"

"It's worth a try, I suppose. I'll only gloat slightly if this backfires."

Without thinking too much about it (that was how he'd seen a lot of success with his pure magic in the past), Harry pointed his wand at the ring and fired off a spell. It deflected harmlessly away. And so he tried it again, with a bit more force this time around. When that came with the same results, he opted for a different charm. And then another. And another for good measure. Until he was cycling through a series of hexes that were all ultimately unsuccessful.

The issue was that, although the horcrux was absorbing most of the attacks, some of the magic was still being physically sent out in all different directions. That was why Hermione was soon ducking behind the other side of the console, using it as a much needed shield. The controls themselves sparked furiously whenever they were caught in the firing line, and the ship emitted a shrill tone in displeasure. That was the only thing loud enough to stop Harry in his tracks, his chest rising and falling rapidly following the heavy exertion.

"Told you so," he panted.

Hermione, understandably, didn't look best pleased with his behaviour. "I get the sense you were doing that in a purposefully crazed manner just so that you could prove me wrong."

"Come on, I hardly ever get the opportunity to do that."

"That's hardly an excuse."

"There was a method to the madness."

"Tell that to the Tardis. I'm quite surprised by the fact she hasn't thrown us out for our insolence."

"She can't do that, can she?"

"I wouldn't put it past her. Maybe, if she was at full strength, she would have done it already."

"Thank god for small mercies."

Harry peered down at the ring, which still found its home on the metal floor of the ship. It appeared to be completely fine despite the impassioned onslaught, with no scratches on its surface. Although Harry had predicted that to be the case, it was still difficult not to be disheartened by the apparent failure. He'd put all his might into the attacks and come away with nothing to show for it. Besides a disgruntled ship and a severely displeased friend, whose wild hair seemed to be the only consequence of his actions.

"There was at least one part of that madness that made it a worthwhile exercise," Hermione pointed out.

Harry had never been more surprised. "There was?"

"By the end of it, you weren't even saying the incantations for the spells."

"...and?"

"Harry! Non-verbal magic is one step away from harnessing pure magic! Think about all the things that Matthew did, such as swapping between his cane and wand. He never had to say anything to make that happen. He spoke of how limitations were placed on magic over the generations, which might have come in the form of the incantations themselves. Yes, they allow for more control and a higher degree of success, but they restrict what your magic can do to one very specific purpose. The whole point of pure magic is to basically keep your options open."

"I…never thought about it like that. Sometimes, when I'm panicking, I'll forget to say the spell. You know, when it's in the heat of the moment, when I feel as if I don't have time to go through the proper procedures. I didn't think it was a big deal, but I obviously don't tend to think when I do it."

Hermione's eyes lit up, the brightest they'd been for a good while. "Which is exactly the key to unlocking pure magic!"

"So…I've been using pure magic without even realising it?"

"Well, I'm certain it's the same source of power, if a bit muted compared to the real deal. But this is brilliant! It's further proof that you can do it, if you still have any doubts. I know what you're like. Your favourite pastime is getting into your own head."

"I wish I could argue against that."

"I feel as if you were going about it the wrong way, though," Hermione pressed on, energised by the revelation.

It was unbelievably good to see her in such a state. For a good few months, the spark had been taken from her. It occasionally made an appearance, sometimes convincing Harry that she was on the road to recovery, only for it to disappear once again. But now she was in full flow, regaining the persona of the girl - the young woman now - who could be inspired by any sort of new discovery. It was as if the prospect of new knowledge was bringing her back to life.

If that was possible, then maybe the Tardis wasn't as much of a lost cause as they thought.

"What are you thinking in that brilliant head of yours?"

Her smile was an embarrassed one, as if she still wasn't used to praise after all this time. "We can't destroy the ring if wands are involved. Matthew's pure magic created his wand, not the other way around. It acts as a conduit of our powers, but also as a limiter. For us to create enough energy, we need to have no potential barriers in place."

"Because, when we've been able to do it, our wands haven't been a factor," Harry added. "It's wandless magic. A bit like what Dumbledore does."

"It might explain why he's so powerful. He's been tapping into resources that everyone else doesn't know are there."

"Except for us."

"We're the only ones who are foolish enough to give this a try."

"What are you thinking, then? Should I stow my wand away and give it another try?"

"It's not the worst idea in the world. It might be better to swap things around too. You could leave your wand out of the equation, but say the incantation instead. That might make things a bit easier. If anything about this can be simple."

Harry nodded his head, understanding where she was coming from. Despite that, it was still an odd experience to slowly place his wand on the floor, nearby just in case anything went wrong. Based on past experiences, that was entirely possible. It felt strange to be approaching a spell without the comfort of his wand. When he'd used pure magic in the past, there had been no prior consideration to the act. It had been accidental, brought about through the sheer power of his emotions. Perhaps this was the final step he needed to go through to finally crack the code.

Going against his earlier plan, he focused on the ring, hoping it could become the sole captor of his attention. It shouldn't have been difficult. When you were faced with something so evil, it was hard not to be occupied by its presence. And the Tardis' gloomy atmosphere came with its advantages. It was so unusually dark that it meant there were fewer distractions. There weren't as many blinking controls or flashing lights, making him wonder what purpose they served.

The horcrux was all that Harry cared about.

He was having to take this from a different angle than usual. When he'd used pure magic in the past, those sparse occasions had come about through facing a daunting threat. Whilst the ring had the potential to be just as deadly, it was hard to imagine it doing anything whilst it was in its unassuming state. That meant he couldn't direct all of his might into stopping the danger, at least not in the same fashion as had proved successful before.

Harry changed tact. Instead of concentrating on one thing to inspire him, he considered the factors that were inspiring him to take this step. His first port of call was to think about the ship that surrounded him. It may have been a less impressive sight than usual, but Harry had seen it in its full majesty. The Tardis proved beyond doubt that pure magic was real and that it could be harnessed to create something spectacular. Surely that meant he could utilise the same resource, particularly seeing as he was doing this in the Tardis itself.

Maybe the ship could lend a helping hand if it came to it.

He thought about Hogwarts. It wasn't just about the pupils and professors (even Snape), the people he was doing this for. That might have been enough to inspire him into action, knowing that they were all relying on him without even knowing it. But he focused more on the actual school, the wondrous place in which he'd seen anything and everything happen. If he'd immersed himself in a site that made miracles happen daily, then was there a chance that it had left its mark to help him do the same?

Help would always be found at Hogwarts - he needed that more than ever.

Sirius and Lupin came next. Yet again, it was another reason for him doing this. Harry wanted the future that had been promised to him. The prophecy had threatened to take it away from him, painting the rest of his life in terms of years rather than decades. With the horcrux in front of him, hopefully on the verge of destruction, he'd be one step closer to laying the prophecy to rest. And then he'd finally get to enjoy having a family without any outside concerns taking the shine away from the simple beauty of it all.

If familial love had saved him once before, then he hoped it would come to his aid again.

It was hard not to bring Hermione into the mix. She was the one person who'd been by his side forever, at least since his life had grown to be worthwhile. She'd had opportunities to run away, to turn her back on him out of fear of what knowing him could result in. But she believed in him. She believed he could do this, do anything. If she was the smartest witch of her age (and that wasn't close to being in doubt), then she surely had to know what she was talking about.

Not to mention the fact that Hermione was further proof that pure magic could be unlocked if you had the right mindset.

If Harry needed any more evidence that such a power was tangible, then he had to look no further than Matthew. Being in the Tardis, it was impossible not to remember his best friend. That might have been a powerful distraction, taking his mind away from what mattered. Instead, Harry used it as a form of inspiration. The ship seemed to still carry the boy's lingering presence, the only place in the wizarding world that could make such a claim. Perhaps that particular ghost could support Harry one last time, a guiding hand that wasn't truly there.

It had the feeling that it was the final lesson Matthew was going to teach him.

Harry's right hand exploded into a ball of light, only briefly. The power left his fingertips as quickly as it had appeared, shooting at the ring with surprising precision. Harry had been so lost in his mind that he almost missed the event, but the painful hissing of the horcrux was enough of a giveaway to tell him something had happened. It was strange that such an awful sound could make him feel so ecstatic, as if the magic had come with a shot of endorphins too.

"Again, Harry!" Hermione instructed, clapping her hands in what was likely a mixture of surprise and delight. "Again!"

He went through the same process, realising that the myriad thoughts had paradoxically helped clear his mind like never before. It seemed to utilise Matthew's training, in that Harry was able to select each thought that could help him through having a more ordered brain. He thought about Matthew once more. Of the Tardis and Hogwarts and Sirius and Lupin. He thought of Hermione's thrilled applause, her admiration of his efforts. He thought of how happy his departed friend would have been to witness the moment if he'd been there to do so.

The magic returned and it lasted a bit longer this time around. And much more beneficial was the fact that Harry was able to bring it back sooner afterwards, ensuring the horcrux didn't have a moment to compose or defend itself. The hissing grew louder and more fretful, increasing in decibels with every hit Harry landed. It was a cacophony of noise of the like Harry had never experienced, the combination of his satisfied joy and the horcrux's abject fear mixing together to create something unholy.

Until, at last, the ring split in two.

An eruption of black smoke was emitted and Harry grew worried that they were going to have a repeat performance of the locket's painful theatrics. But the last vestiges of the horcrux's soul dissipated as if the Tardis itself was pouncing on it, clearing the dirty cloud before it could cause them any harm. It was entirely possible that the ship was using the last of its power to protect them one last time, absorbing the dark force and destroying it through the sheer might of its heart.

There was a brief period of silence. Of shock. Of relief. The ship returned to its quiet state, so much so that only the ragged breathing of the two teenagers could be heard. They looked at the broken shards, the metal corpse. They looked at one another. They smiled. Through a mixture of exhaustion and celebration, the pair found sanctuary in each other, hugging so tightly that they were surely close to snapping in half just as the horcrux had done.

xxxxxxxxxx

Upon stepping out of the Tardis, Harry was empowered by a giddy sense of optimism. He was sure that Hermione was succumbing to the same effects, judging by the wide, slightly teary smile she was sporting. The world seemed like a more vibrant place. For just one, spectacular moment, Diagon Alley resembled the district Harry remembered from his first visit into the magical world. The shop signs were brighter and more colourful, and the promise of people returning to see it go back to its former glory now felt like a tangible possibility.

Even if the people lurking behind the shop windows had no clue as to what momentous event had just happened.

It wasn't just about destroying the horcrux. That would have made the day an excellent one all on its own. The fact that they were still alive was also a nice bonus, with the threat of death having been one Harry had done well to ignore. Life-threatening events were par for the course for him by now. No, perhaps the main cause for his jubilant grin was that, once and for all, he'd shown some level of control over his untempered powers. It was a giant step forward, even if the road seemed to stretch on for a lot longer.

Which was why he was so disappointed when the smile dropped from his face.

The cobbled street wasn't as empty as they'd left it. Unlike Matthew, they weren't about to face a horde of Death Eaters amongst the shops, though that might have been comparable to whatever fate lay ahead of them. Dumbledore, as usual, stood out amongst the group thanks to his absurd dress sense. He was surveying the guilty pair with a curious, judging gaze. McGonagall had opted for a solely withering look, appearing as if was on the verge of going against her past judgements and turning them into ferrets as punishment, using Alastor Moody as inspiration.

Harry was more worried about the fact that their guardians were there. Peter Granger stood with his arms folded, his usually imposing demeanour dialled up to eleven. Katherine was tapping her foot expectantly, showing off a demeanour that removed any lingering doubt that she was the mother of Hermione. Her disapproving glare was one he'd been subjected to many a time whenever his homework hadn't completely been up to scratch.

As for Lupin and Sirius, Harry was gutted to see that there was a certain degree of disappointment in their eyes. They looked hurt and wounded and, now that the horcrux had been dealt with, Harry couldn't overlook the sense of remorse at going behind their backs. He wouldn't have changed a thing, especially since they'd been successful, but upsetting his new family meant his certainty was touch and go.

Sirius hadn't looked so angry since that night in the Shrieking Shack. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, young man."