The next few days were even more uncomfortable than the ones before. Ron had distanced himself from the group after Harry lashed out at him on Sunday. They talked, even joked a little when they were in the same room, but Ron spent any free time apart from Harry—so it didn't happen often.
At least he'd taken part of Harry's words to heart—the excessive snogging sessions continued, but now only behind closed doors (or curtains).
Harry hadn't wanted to criticize his best friend so harshly. He didn't actually have a problem with Lavender… well, apart from her constant giggling and gossiping. But he stood by what he'd said—the only reason Ron was giving her the time of day was to keep score with Ginny, and, by extension, with Harry himself.
The whole situation felt terribly immature to Harry. He couldn't imagine going and snogging the first girl he could find if he were in Ron's position.
Hermione was keeping to herself, too. She'd grown tired of running into Ron glued to Lavender's lips and was now spending most of her time in the library.
That was the main reason Harry hadn't told either of them the truth about the Horcruxes yet. He wanted to. They'd expressed their desire to follow him and help that emotional evening in Remus's living room—but there hadn't been a single moment to sit down and tell them everything.
Ginny learned the truth the day after Harry.
They were enjoying rare time alone, tucked away in the Room of Requirement late after curfew—the first chance all day they'd managed to sneak off together.
Harry told her everything, his voice full of worry, unsure how she would react to the information that she had once been possessed by a fragment of Voldemort's soul.
As he feared, the revelation shook Ginny to her core. She sat down heavily on the floor, pale, trembling, and scarily silent.
Harry expected tears. Disgust. Anger.
But she didn't speak for ten full minutes. She just stared ahead, blank, unresponsive to his whispered pleas to talk to him.
When it lasted too long, Harry started to seriously consider running for Remus or Madam Pomfrey, worried she'd gone into some kind of shock.
But then Ginny blinked. She shook her head slowly, then looked at Harry—and the fire in her eyes had returned.
"All right," she said quietly, with steel in her voice. "Let's destroy some pieces of Tom's soul, yeah?"
Harry laughed uncertainly then, relieved to have Ginny back from her eerie silence. If only it were going to be that easy.
"Yeah, let's. But first, we need to find out what they are… where they are… and how many he actually made."
Ginny looked at him then, and with absolute certainty in her voice, said, "Seven. He made seven."
"Because it's a strong magical number?" he asked, curious how she could be so sure.
"Well, that too. But mostly, from what I remember from my first year. He needed to keep my mind occupied while he was possessing me, so he was counting. Only to seven, and then again—over and over. He counted my steps, my breaths, even my chews. Only to seven. Never more."
"Merlin, Ginny… you never told me that." Harry's posture sagged slightly, and he looked at her with wide eyes. Even the idea of hearing Voldemort's high, cold voice in his head, never stopping, counting to seven again and again—it was horrifying.
"It was a long time ago. Doesn't matter anymore," she said quietly. "What matters is the remaining five Horcruxes."
"We're going to check Grimmauld Place on Friday," Harry told her. "One of the Horcruxes was stolen by Regulus—Sirius's brother. We're hoping we can find out what happened to it in the house.
Ginny didn't say anything more for a moment. She just stood up and reached for his hand, helping him to his feet.
"It's getting late," she said softly, brushing her hair back. "I should probably head back before I fall asleep right here on the floor."
But her tone wasn't convincing, and Harry didn't believe for a second that she was ready to be alone. Neither of them had said it aloud, but he knew this night—the memories it stirred—might very well follow her into her dreams.
"Stay with me," he said quietly. "Just for tonight."
Ginny hesitated only a second before nodding.
They left the Room of Requirement together under the cover of darkness, moving silently through the quiet corridors of the castle. When they reached the Gryffindor common room, they paused to cast a discreet charm on the boys' staircase—one that would alert them to any movement and wake them instantly if someone else approached.
"Good thinking," Ginny said, a tired smile on her lips. "You're getting sneakier."
Harry pulled the Cloak of invisibility over her and together they climbed the stairs.
The room was dark, the gentle rhythm of Neville's and Ron's snoring already filling the space. Dean and Seamus seemed fast asleep too.
Harry pulled back the covers on his bed, giving Ginny a questioning glance. She didn't hesitate, just climbed in beside him, curling up with her back to his chest.
They lay in silence for a few moments, the warmth between them steadying the world that had spun too fast all day.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, just above her ear.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Just… hold me, okay?"
He did. And long after she drifted into sleep, Harry lay awake, listening to her even breathing and letting the weight of the coming war settle over him again. But he wasn't alone this time. And that made all the difference.
…..
The castle was buzzing with gossip about Ginny and Theo, and it had a few unexpected consequences. Even Ginny experienced backlash for her choice of love interest. A few people in Gryffindor Tower scowled at her whenever she came back from a fake date, some even going so far as to laugh in her face.
Harry wanted nothing more than to stand up for her—and for Theo, who was proving to be a decent bloke—but he couldn't. Not without exposing everything. So when Ginny was once again verbally assaulted in the Common Room, this time by Parvati Patil of all people, he could only watch the situation unfold, tension building in his chest.
"Don't tell me you actually trust their bullshit, Ginny!" Parvati shrieked, her voice raw with emotion, eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I don't know what's gotten into everyone lately. You, Padma, even that seventh-year Hufflepuff Claire Grassland—suddenly you're all dating Slytherins! Don't you see it's part of their plan? Change the House views from the inside out? Has he started whispering blood supremacy in your ear, or does he pretend he's above it all, just to wear you down until you start to believe him?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You don't know Theo."
"I know his House. That's enough."
"No, it's not," Ginny shot back. "You think people can't change? That someone's worth is only their House? My brother was in Gryffindor and he's acting like a complete tosser these days, but you're not yelling at him in the Common Room, are you?"
Parvati's expression twisted. "You have no idea what it's like watching your twin turn into someone you can barely recognize. Blaise Zabini's turned Padma into—Merlin, I don't even know what. She hardly speaks to me anymore. And you're just feeding the same poison—!"
"I'm trying to see people for who they are, not where they sit during meals!" Ginny snapped. "Theo has been nothing but decent to me. And unlike some people, he doesn't start screaming the second someone does something he doesn't like!"
Parvati gave an outraged scoff, blinked furiously, then turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the portrait hole behind her.
Before Ginny could take a breath, another voice piped up behind her—smug, cutting, and all too familiar.
"Well, I for one am thrilled you've found someone else to obsess over," Romilda Vane said sweetly. "It's about time you stopped wasting everyone's time pretending you were ever in Harry's league."
Ginny froze, turned slowly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Romilda smiled, all teeth. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you've shagged him by now. Does it make you feel special? Like you've finally won?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Romilda, clearly enjoying the moment, didn't notice Harry had been sitting on the couch behind Ginny the whole time—until he stood up.
"I'm sorry," Harry said calmly, "do you usually say things like that out loud, or is today just a special occasion?"
Romilda's face went pale. "I—I didn't realize you were—"
"Clearly," Harry said, voice cool. "You know, for someone who desperately wants a shot, you're doing a great job making sure it never happens."
Ginny smirked. "Also, for the record, I haven't shagged him. Not that it's any of your business. But if I had, I guarantee he wouldn't be complaining."
Romilda turned a deep shade of red, spun around, and fled up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
Harry looked at Ginny, eyebrows raised. "Well, that escalated."
Ginny let out a sharp breath. "Honestly, it was about time. I'm sick of all the things I keep hearing about myself—most of them not even true!" Her voice rose with the last words, and she swept her glare across the Common Room, daring anyone to speak up.
No one did. They all avoided her eyes, suddenly very interested in their books, the fireplace, or their fingernails.
"Right," Ginny snapped. "Then how about you all mind your own bloody business and leave mine alone?"
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off toward the girls' dormitory, shoulders stiff and chin high.
….
Because of the uncomfortable situation with Ron and Hermione, Harry spent the week leading up to the planned trip to Grimmauld Place with Neville. To his surprise, Neville turned out to be a really good companion—quiet, but surprisingly observant. Some of his offhand remarks during class made Harry laugh so hard he lost a few points for disrupting lessons.
Harry discovered that once Neville stepped out of his shy persona, he was just about done with all the Gryffindor drama.
"Seriously, what's up with everyone?" Neville vented over dinner one evening. "Ron and Lavender, Ron and Hermione, you and her, now the girls fighting with Ginny… How did everything get so complicated so fast?"
They were sitting alone. Hermione hadn't returned from the library yet, and Ron was still spending most of his time with Lavender—and, by extension, with Parvati.
Parvati and Romilda's fight with Ginny had become a hot topic of gossip in the Gryffindor Common Room. But what made it worse was Ron's silence. He hadn't stood up for his sister, and the fact that he kept spending time with one of her loudest critics sent a clear message to the rest of the House: Ron wasn't happy about Ginny's so-called relationship.
He didn't say anything openly. He knew the truth about the fake dating arrangement, but it was obvious he still wasn't on board—even before the argument broke out. He'd never bothered to listen to any descriptions of Theo's personality, couldn't see past the Slytherin green. He didn't care who Theo really was underneath the house colors.
Ginny had started bringing Theo along more often to the Room of Requirement to hang out. Since they'd become friends, she felt his isolation keenly and wanted to widen his circle.
With Ron and Hermione keeping to themselves, it fell to Neville and Luna to welcome Theo into the group. Neither had any trouble with it—especially Luna, who soon launched into long-winded theories about magical creatures while Theo giggled like a schoolgirl.
As Harry looked around the Room one evening, a pang of sadness tugged at him. Just half a year ago, he'd spent nearly all his time with Ron and Hermione. Now, the shape of his world had shifted. His circle of friends was changing.
He could only hope the situation would sort itself out soon.
He missed them both.
Harry decided to give Ron and Hermione a few more days to cool off. But once he returned from Grimmauld Place, he planned to sit them both down and fill them in on the new information. Whether they liked it or not, they decided to be part of the operation too, so they needed to act like it.
The day of the planned trip with Dumbledore found Harry buzzing with excitement—finally, the plan was in motion. He told Neville he had some business to attend to with Remus and asked him to pass it on to the others if they came looking, though he didn't really expect anyone to.
To his surprise, Ginny and Theo were waiting for him near the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Theo didn't know what Harry was up to, but he understood it was important and didn't ask questions when Ginny said she wanted to see Harry off.
Harry was genuinely happy to see her—he hadn't expected to say goodbye. He gave her a grateful smile.
"Got the Cloak?" Ginny asked instead of a greeting, catching Harry off guard.
"Yeah?" he replied, frowning in confusion.
"Honesty, Harry. Pull it over us while the corridor's empty so I can kiss you goodbye properly."
Harry chuckled and did as she asked. Theo tactfully crossed to the other side of the corridor, giving them space. The moment they were hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Ginny pulled him into a kiss, full of enthusiasm.
"Be careful," she said between kisses. "Come back soon and tell me everything—especially about destroying another Horcrux, yeah?"
She ended their embrace with a particularly heated snog, then pulled back slightly breathless.
"This is just a preview of what's waiting for you when you get back," she whispered before slipping out from under the Cloak.
She glanced back at the spot where he was still hidden and frowned. "Are you coming?"
"Er… I need a minute," Harry admitted, to her great amusement.
A few seconds later, he emerged from under the Cloak, cheeks a bit pink, and waved at the two of them. Then he turned to the gargoyle and said the password—"Sugar quills."
….
The Floo journey to Grimmauld Place was short but jarring. As Harry stepped out into the familiar drawing room, coughing on dust and soot, his heart sank.
The house was a mess.
Bookshelves had been overturned, cabinets emptied, and family portraits torn from their hooks. A thick layer of grime clung to everything, and the musty air reeked of decay and abandonment.
Dumbledore emerged behind him, brushing ash from his cloak. His sharp eyes scanned the room, his usual calm replaced by a rare note of unease.
"Someone has been here," he said quietly. "Since Sirius's death."
Harry nodded, his stomach twisting. "Do you think they were looking for the locket?"
"That would be my guess," Dumbledore murmured. "We must be thorough. Let's start with Regulus's room."
The search began methodically. Regulus Black's bedroom was small and dim, the wallpaper faded and curling at the corners. Harry rifled through old schoolbooks, a cracked bottle of ink, and a collection of worn Quidditch posters featuring the old Montrose Magpies lineup. Dumbledore examined the furniture for hidden compartments, tapping gently with the tip of his wand, but they found nothing unusual—no sign of a Horcrux, no sign of a locket.
They worked their way downward, moving from room to room, pausing only to clear away some of the larger debris. Even after nearly three hours of searching, the results were the same: nothing. No clue, no trace.
Harry was beginning to feel discouraged when they stepped into the main hallway once more, the gloom pressing around them like a weight.
And then—
There was a loud crack from behind them.
Harry spun around, wand raised.
Kreacher stood at the base of the staircase, trembling with rage. His large, bloodshot eyes gleamed with fury, and his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles looked bone-white
"Thieves!" he spat, voice hoarse and cracked. "Thieves, in the house! Stealing from the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black!"
"Kreacher—" Harry began, but the elf stomped forward, shaking with indignation.
"Traitors! Rummaging through precious heirlooms, sacred family treasures—my mistress's legacy! Thieving half-bloods and blood-traitors, just like that wretched Sirius—"
"Harry, stop him! You're his master, he has to obey you." Dumbledore's voice cracked like a whip.
"NO! Kreacher don't want this master, no no no!" Kreacher shrieked.
"That's enough!" yelled Harry.
Kreacher froze mid-step, chest heaving, but said nothing further. His eyes darted between Dumbledore and Harry, still brimming with hatred.
"Kreacher," Dumbledore said, lowering his voice to a grave, careful tone, "we are not here to steal. We are here because we believe something dangerous may have been hidden in this house—something that could threaten the entire Wizarding World."
Kreacher sniffed disdainfully but didn't speak.
Harry stepped forward cautiously. "We're looking for a locket. A big one. It belonged to Regulus. You remember Regulus, don't you?"
At the name, Kreacher's whole body flinched. For a moment, his anger flickered into something else—pain, perhaps, or fear.
Harry felt it like a shift in the air.
"Kreacher," he said gently, "what do you know about the locket?"
Kreacher was breathing heavily, staring at Harry like it was the first time he was truly seeing him.
"The locket," he rasped, his voice shaking. "Master Regulus's locket. Kreacher failed… Kreacher did wrong!"
Before either of them could react, Kreacher flung himself toward the nearest wall with a shriek, clearly intending to punish himself.
"No!" Harry shouted, stepping forward. "I forbid you to punish yourself, Kreacher!"
The elf froze mid-motion, arms outstretched. After a heartbeat, he slowly sank to the filthy ground and sat there, trembling. His eyes were wide and glassy, his breathing ragged.
"Kreacher… please," Harry said gently. "Tell us about Master Regulus's locket."
The words had a strange effect. Kreacher blinked up at him as though yanked out of a fog, and then, almost mechanically, he began to speak.
He told them everything.
About how the Dark Lord had required an elf for a task, and how Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. About the cave with the black lake and the basin filled with poison. About the Inferi. About the potion that burned from the inside and how Kreacher had been left behind to die.
Harry felt sick.
Dumbledore said nothing, but his eyes had narrowed sharply, a glint of recognition in them as Kreacher described the cave. He exchanged a glance with Harry but said nothing, allowing the elf to continue.
Kreacher described how he had managed to Apparate back, wounded and terrified, and how Regulus had listened, wide-eyed and furious.
Then came Regulus's final command. Kreacher's voice cracked as he described how they had gone back together. How Regulus had taken Kreacher's place at the basin, drinking the poison himself. How he had screamed and begged Kreacher to leave him and take the locket—how the order bound him, forced him to leave his master behind.
At this, Kreacher broke down completely. His bony shoulders shook with sobs, his face streaked with tears and snot. He mumbled through his grief, explaining how he had tried—tried so hard—to destroy the locket, but had failed. Again and again.
By the end, Kreacher was slumped over, broken and gasping for breath. Harry looked at Dumbledore, his throat tight, unsure whether they could ask more of him.
It was Dumbledore who finally spoke, his voice soft.
"Kreacher… where is the locket now?"
The elf sniffed loudly. "Hidden. That thief, that filthy thief, Mundungus Fletcher, he's been coming here, taking what is not his. Kreacher had to protect it, yes, yes, he did."
Dumbledore's face lit up, a rare flash of triumph in his eyes.
"Could you give it to us, Kreacher?" Harry asked cautiously.
But Kreacher's eyes narrowed at once, his lips curling in suspicion.
"To destroy it," Harry added quickly, taking a step closer. "To finish what Master Regulus started."
Kreacher stilled.
For a long moment, he stared at Harry, blinking as if weighing his soul. Then he turned sharply on his heel and darted from the room without a word.
They followed him in stunned silence, down to the dank, cold kitchen. Kreacher's "nest" was there—an old corner behind closed cabinet doors where he'd stashed items of sentimental value: a few dusty photographs, a golden necklace with a green sapphire, and, oddly, one very worn and smelly boot.
Kreacher ignored them all. Instead, he shuffled to a loose floorboard and pried it up with gnarled fingers.
Beneath it, wrapped in a crumpled piece of silk, was the locket.
Harry's breath caught. The serpent-shaped "S" was unmistakable.
They had found it.
….
They quickly decided to return to Hogwarts to determine what the next step should be.
Before they left, Kreacher shuffled toward them, clutching the floorboard he'd pried up, now empty. His voice was low, almost shy.
"If… if Master Harry ever destroys the locket… Kreacher would like to know. Please."
Harry gave him a warm, honest smile. "Of course. I promise."
Dumbledore, who had been quietly observing the exchange, then offered gently, "You know, Kreacher… there is always room for another elf in the Hogwarts kitchens. If you ever decide this house feels too empty, too lonely… you would be most welcome among your kin."
Kreacher looked conflicted, his face twitching through several expressions. "Kreacher… Kreacher will think about it."
"That's all I ask," Dumbledore replied kindly. "The offer stands, whenever you're ready."
Moments later, they stepped through the Floo into Dumbledore's office. The room was quiet, the light from the tall windows spilling across the table where the locket now lay between them.
It didn't emanate the same oppressive darkness as the diadem had, but something about it still felt wrong—like a chill that brushed just beneath the skin. Harry found himself shivering.
"I'm just glad we don't have to wear it," he muttered, eyeing the thing warily.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed with a tired chuckle. "Could you imagine?"
The two of them stared down at the locket in silence for a moment.
Then Dumbledore leaned forward, examining it more closely. "This is the second Horcrux we've seen that's tied to one of the Hogwarts founders," he noted thoughtfully. "This locket once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. The diadem, of course, was Rowena Ravenclaw's. There may be a pattern forming."
"You think the next one might be… Hufflepuff's?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Quite possibly," Dumbledore said. "Though I wouldn't rule out something more personal to Voldemort himself."
"What about Gryffindor?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't he want something from all four Houses?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly and gestured to the wall. "The only known relic of Godric Gryffindor is hanging right there."
Harry followed his gaze to the gleaming silver sword with its ruby-studded hilt.
"He wouldn't have been able to get his hands on it?" he asked.
"Highly unlikely," Dumbledore said. "The sword recognizes worthy Gryffindors—it does not tolerate darkness."
Harry nodded, but his mind was racing.
Two down. At least four to go.
They didn't want to waste time. Dumbledore led the way to the same room as before just behind his office where a small but well-fortified room stood hidden behind a thick iron door. Dumbledore murmured a series of enchantments before they stepped inside.
The room was quiet, its stone walls lined with protective runes that glowed faintly in the torchlight. At the center stood a single stone pedestal, flat and empty.
"This will do," Dumbledore said softly, placing the locket carefully onto the pedestal.
He turned to Harry, holding out the Sword of Gryffindor. Its blade gleamed with a cold, patient light.
"Would you do the honors?" he asked.
But Harry shook his head, backing a step away. "I already destroyed the diary," he said. "Maybe this one's yours."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. "Very well."
He gripped the sword with both hands, taking a steadying breath. Then, with a swift motion, he brought the blade down onto the locket.
The impact echoed through the chamber with a metallic clang—but the locket remained untouched. Not even scratched.
Dumbledore frowned, lips pursed. "Curious," he muttered. He lifted the sword again and struck harder.
Clang.
Again, nothing. The blade merely glanced off the locket as though it were made of solid stone, not delicate metal.
Harry stepped closer, brow furrowed. "It's like it's… sealed."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I believe we'll have to open it before we can destroy it."
"But how?" Harry asked. "It's not like it has a lock or a hinge."
The two of them stared at it in silence. There was something unnerving about how still the locket lay, as though it were watching them back, waiting.
"I have some theories," Dumbledore said at last, though he didn't sound convinced. "But I believe we may be too tired to think clearly tonight. Perhaps some rest will help us see what we're missing."
Harry looked at the locket one more time, a tight feeling twisting in his chest.
"Alright," he said, though uneasily. "But… we won't leave it alone, right?"
Dumbledore gave a faint smile. "It will remain under guard. And under wards stronger than any in this castle—except, perhaps, those that protect the students."
He waved his wand, and a protective dome shimmered into place over the pedestal. The locket was locked in once more.
Harry turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Thanks… for letting me come along. For trusting me."
"I always have, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "More than you know."
It was late at night when Harry finally collapsed into bed with an exhausted grunt. To his disappointment, the common room had been empty when he returned from Dumbledore's office—but not five minutes later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open and couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.
Ginny crawled under the covers beside him and hugged him tightly.
"Hi," she said with a tired smile. "I borrowed the Marauder's Map and waited for you to show up. Hope you don't mind."
Harry hugged her back fondly. "Never. I'm so happy to see you."
For a while, they just lay there, holding each other, letting the stress of the day slowly dissolve in the comfort of shared silence.
After a few minutes, Harry began to recount the events of the day, his voice quiet and tired. Ginny listened closely, hanging on every word, and when he finished, she smiled.
"That went better than I expected. I was terrified the Horcrux wouldn't be there. This is good—Dumbledore will figure out how to open it, and then… only four of those repulsive things left."
"Right. I forgot to tell Dumbledore your theory—he still expects me to get the truth out of Slughorn," Harry said with a chuckle. After everything else going on, prying a confession out of their potions professor didn't feel like the hardest task ahead.
"He's having that Christmas party, remember? If you indulge him a bit, I'm sure he'll invite you."
Harry groaned—not because he thought it would be hard to get the invitation. Slughorn was still watching him like he was some kind of prized possession. No, what bothered him was knowing he couldn't take Ginny with him.
"Shame you won't be there. It would be much more enjoyable."
"I do tend to make things more enjoyable for you, that's true," Ginny giggled.
"That reminds me… I promised you something," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
And true to her word, she delivered more than just a heated goodbye kiss under the Invisibility Cloak. The night took a much more enjoyable turn for Harry indeed.
….
The next day, Harry and Ginny slept in again—this time deliberately. Ginny had already told Demelza about her plan, and she promised to cover for her. The boys in Harry's dormitory wouldn't disturb him either. It was Saturday, after all, and there was no real reason to be up early.
When they finally woke and Ginny sneaked out under the Cloak, Harry decided that enough was enough—it was time to talk to Ron and Hermione. He got dressed and headed down to the Great Hall, determined to find them both over breakfast.
He spotted Ron first, unsurprisingly sitting with Lavender and feeding her strawberries. Harry groaned inwardly but made his way to their table anyway.
"Ron. I need to talk to you," he said without preamble. "Could you meet me in Remus's quarters after breakfast?"
He didn't want to beat around the bush anymore—he was done keeping things from the people who mattered. Including Remus. Having him present might even help keep the conversation from turning into a shouting match.
Ron looked up at him with a curious expression, but the mention of Remus's name seemed to clue him in. His eyes sharpened, and he nodded with a more serious look.
"Yeah. I'll be there," Ron agreed, to Lavender's loud displeasure. She clearly had other plans for his morning, but Harry didn't stick around long enough to hear her complaints.
He made his way across the Hall and slid onto the bench beside Hermione, who was reading while eating toast.
"Hi, Hermione," he greeted her with a tired smile.
She looked up and returned it easily, brushing a crumb off her sleeve. "Morning, Harry."
"There's something I need to tell you," he said gently. "Could you meet us in Remus's quarters after breakfast?"
Hermione, too, recognized the seriousness in his voice and nodded with a small smile.
"Of course, Harry. I just wanted to send a letter home after breakfast. What time is Remus expecting us?"
"Er… he isn't, actually."
Hermione frowned. "Honestly, Harry. We can't just barge in like that. You should ask before using his quarters."
Harry laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll go talk to him. Let's meet there at ten?"
Hermione agreed and headed off to the Owlery. Harry, meanwhile, stayed in the Hall, keeping an eye on the Head Table until he saw Remus stand and leave. He waited a moment to give him a head start, then hurried after him.
"Remus! Is it alright if we crash at yours at ten? I've got some things I want to talk to you about."
Remus laughed openly. "Yeah, I heard you. Was wondering if you'd actually come talk to me about it."
Harry blinked. "Wait—what? You heard me?"
Remus grinned. "Heightened senses, remember? I heard you talking in the Great Hall."
"Holy shit, you hear that much?" Harry blurted, wide-eyed. Remus only laughed harder.
"To be fair, I only caught it because I heard my name. Then I focused in. Otherwise it would've been lost in the sea of voices. But yes, I do hear quite a bit. Might want to keep that in mind before you move in with me for the holidays, yeah?"
Harry nodded slowly, then frowned at Remus's retreating back. That was a good point. There were definitely things he wouldn't think to muffle behind closed doors… but clearly, closed doors didn't matter much when someone had Remus's hearing.
Spending time with a werewolf was proving to have some unexpected challenges.
With some time to spare before the meeting, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He found Ginny curled up in the armchair closest to the fire, lazily flipping through a battered copy of Which Broomstick? Her hair glinted gold in the firelight, and the moment he entered, she looked up and smiled.
He crossed the room and leaned on the arm of her chair, reaching out to brush her fingers with his. "I just wanted to let you know—I'm meeting Ron and Hermione in Remus's quarters at ten. I'm going to tell them everything. About the Horcruxes. "
Ginny arched a brow, sitting up a bit. "Are you inviting me to come?"
"I mean… yeah," Harry said, a little uncertain.
"I'll skip," she said simply. "You three haven't had proper time just the three of you in ages. I know things have been… weird, lately. And I don't want to be the reason that doesn't get sorted out."
Harry frowned slightly. "You're not the reason."
"Maybe not," Ginny said, "but I don't want to be in the way either. You lot started this together. You need to find your rhythm again. I already know everything you're going to say anyway."
He gave a soft laugh. "You're not wrong."
Ginny smiled. "Go. Save the world. Reunite the golden Trio. But come back and tell me how it went, yeah?"
"Yeah." Harry lingered a moment longer before heading out, grateful that Ginny once again understood without needing a long explanation—that this was something he needed to do alone.
…..
When he reached Remus's quarters, he knocked once out of habit before pushing the door open—only to find Ron already inside, sitting on the couch, tossing a Chocolate Frog up and down.
"Oh," Harry said. "You're early."
Ron shrugged. "You didn't say a time, so I came straight away. Figured if I waited too long, Lavender would find a way to glue me to her side."
Harry laughed. "Fair."
"Where's Remus?" he asked after a quick look around.
"He said something about the kitchen and biscuits," Ron replied. Harry smiled inwardly—he knew Remus had a stash of biscuits right there in the room. The professor probably just wanted to give them a bit of space to reconnect.
They exchanged a few minutes of easy small talk—jokes about Quidditch, grumbles about upcoming exams, and speculation on what was for lunch—until Hermione arrived right on time, shaking the snowflakes out of her curls.
"Sorry—was I the last to arrive?" she asked, slipping off her scarf.
"Only by a bit," Harry assured her, suddenly feeling the weight of what he was about to say settle on his shoulders. He took a deep breath.
"I know it's been kind of weird between us lately," he started, looking between the two of them. "And I'm sorry for my part in that. I know I've been distant and secretive and… well, annoying."
Ron gave a little snort, and Harry grinned.
"But the truth is, we don't have time for that anymore. It's time to throw our differences aside and start working together again. There's too much at stake. I need you both—really need you—if we're going to war."
There was a beat of silence, and then Harry added with a crooked smile, "I thought about trying to find a mountain troll for us to fight again. You know, start over with a clean sheet."
Hermione rolled her eyes affectionately. "Let's just skip that part this time."
Ron nodded, serious now. "We're with you, mate. Always."
Just then, the door opened and Remus entered, carrying a tray stacked with a teapot, mismatched mugs, and a tin of biscuits.
"Well, if we're about to discuss dark magic and world-saving, we'll need fortification," he said, setting the tray down with a calm smile. "Chocolate-dipped and ginger. Take your pick."
They all gave small, grateful smiles, and once everyone had a mug in hand and a biscuit or two, they settled into the soft chairs and couch around the fire.
Harry looked down at the tea in his hands for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he said quietly, "I need to tell you something that can't leave this room."
Ron and Hermione straightened slightly. Remus didn't speak, just gave a slight nod of encouragement.
"Do you know what a Horcrux is?"
Remus's eyes narrowed slightly. "I've read the term somewhere, but I don't remember details."
Ron just shook his head, clearly puzzled.
"It's… it's the darkest kind of magic there is," Harry said, glancing at Remus, who remained quiet but serious. "A Horcrux is an object used to hide a piece of someone's soul. You can only make one by committing murder."
Hermione gasped softly. Even Ron paled.
"The idea is that as long as the Horcrux exists, you can't truly die. It keeps you anchored to life. Voldemort made several of them."
The silence that followed was thick. Hermione looked horrified. Ron just stared.
Harry pressed on. "The first one was the diary Ginny had in her first year. That wasn't just a memory or a cursed object—it was a piece of his soul."
Hermione put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God…"
Harry nodded. "This year, Ginny and I found another one—accidentally. It was hidden in the Room of Requirement. It's… it's a diadem. Belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."
Ron blinked. "You're joking. A Horcrux? In Hogwarts?"
"And just yesterday, Dumbledore and I found another one," Harry added quietly. "It was hidden in Grimmauld Place. A locket. Slytherin's."
"That's three," Hermione whispered.
"Three that we know of," Harry said grimly. "Dumbledore thinks there are more. We just don't know where they are yet."
Ron let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell…"
Hermione was already sitting forward, eyes alight in that familiar way that meant she was assembling a mental list of sources to check.
"I'll go to the library today. I remember coming across the term Horcrux once, it must be in Secrets of the Darkest Arts or Forbidden Hexes and Where to Find Them—"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted gently, "you won't find anything useful. Dumbledore said the topic's been completely scrubbed from Hogwarts. The books that mention Horcruxes are either restricted or gone entirely."
Hermione blinked, surprised. "But there must be something—"
"I don't think so. And even if there is, it won't tell us what we need." Harry shifted in his chair. "What we do need is to figure out what the remaining Horcruxes could be."
Ron gave him a sideways look. "You said the diadem was Ravenclaw's. The locket was Slytherin's?"
"Yeah. So Dumbledore thinks Voldemort was collecting items that belonged to the Hogwarts founders. Which means," Harry turned to Hermione, "I'd like you to research anything you can find on lost relics of Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Anything that's ever gone missing, been stolen, been rumored to exist."
Hermione's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Voldemort would want things with meaning. Power, legacy…"
"And," Harry added, "we think Slughorn might know how many Horcruxes Voldemort actually made. Dumbledore said he once told Slughorn about it. But Slughorn's hiding the memory—he's ashamed of what he said."
"So," Ron said slowly, "we just… get him to spill?"
"Exactly. Dumbledore wants me to get the truth from him."
Ron groaned. "That'll be fun. He's obsessed with you. Just bat your eyelashes and talk about your dead mum or something."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Ron."
But Harry chuckled. "He's not entirely wrong. Slughorn collects people like trophies. I just need to play the part. I know he's planning a Christmas party, so I might be able to use that."
"We could help," Hermione offered. "If we all find excuses to talk to him, steer the conversation, maybe we can wear him down."
Ron looked hesitant. "What, like… trick him into admitting he helped Voldemort?"
"No tricking," Harry said firmly. "Just… persuading. He's not evil, just scared. If we can make him see why it matters, he might give it up."
Hermione nodded, already lost in thought. "We'll need to be careful. He's clever. But if we do this right…"
They all fell quiet for a moment, the gravity of their task settling in again. Then Remus returned from the other room, holding a fresh teapot and looking at them all over the rim of his mug.
"Sounds like the golden trio is back in business."
Harry glanced at his friends, and for the first time in weeks, he felt it too.
They were in this together.