"Nevilles missing!" Harry told Time, frantic.

"I know," Time took a sip of his tea.

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"I cannot, I am afraid. But, I will tell you that he is well protected. Breathe, Harry Potter. Your friend is alive and well. He is looking for you."

It wasn't an answer, but it worked for the time being.

"Oh, Harry?" Time beckoned him closer. "Be careful in this house. The dark magic can corrupt you again."

"What house?"

"No, no…" Harry muttered in his sleep. Ron sighed as he looked over his best friend. How had it gotten like this? Why in Merlin's name did Neville let go? Or was it Harry who let go? Had they simply slipped apart? Ron didn't know, and he didn't care to think about it much. At least not right now.

He was exhausted. He didn't want to be here, and he doubted Harry wanted to be here either. Even in his sleep, the guy tossed and turned, his body alternating between shaking and sweating. Ron didn't know why. He'd be scared if he wasn't so tired.

He just wanted to sleep. He knew he couldn't at least not right now. He needed to wait for Hermione to wake up to take the next shift. They didn't know if Grimmauld was safe, so keeping watch was the best option for them all right now. They decided to settle on staying at the front of the house just in case. It gave them better foresight, and a quick way to escape if needed.

Ron sat up and dragged himself to the kitchen. He hated late nights. They made him…sad. All he had was himself and his thoughts, especially at times like these. He was so stressed, so tired, surrounded but still alone. He doubted any of his friends could understand his mental struggle.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. I mean sure, Harry and Neville were abused (at least partially on Neville's side, Ron could just tell. What sort of person drops their family member out of a window?) and both had parental issues to the max, but that wasn't Ron's dilemma. He had loving parents, great brothers and a sister he adored. He was happy, most of the time. But the second the sun would set and he was alone, everything felt wrong.

The same memories he had smiled at in the mornings brought him sadness. The thought of doing anything brought him dread. The very idea of telling anyone any of this was like a knife to his heart.

So, he sat, and sipped his coffee in silence, drowning out the noise of his own head with the static of a nearby radio. It worked, for the most part. He'd be okay once he was able to sleep it off. The second the sun shone in, and the birds started singing, he'd be fine, like his night thoughts didn't exist.

God, were they going to make it? He tried not to think about it too much. They just weren't prepared for the Death Eaters to attack them in the muggle world, is all. They'd be strong enough for sure; if they just kept up their guard. Yeah, that would do.

He chugged the rest of his coffee. It had grown slightly cold, but he didn't mind. He didn't feel any more energised, though. Maybe if he walked around a bit? That usually worked on Hermione. He didn't want to use one of the stay-awake potions just yet, in case they needed them later. Hermione knew how to make them off the top of her head, but they didn't have any potion ingredients or a caldron. What could they do?

"Ron?" A soft voice asked. The redhead looked up.

"Harry. Glad you're awake."

"We're in Grimmauld."

"Yeah, Hermione brought us here. Said it would be the safest place for you."

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a seat. "We- I can't stay here."

"What? Why?" Ron asked, looking up from where he was pouring a second cup.

"The place is covered in dark magic. You feel it too, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Ron said, breathing in deeply. He could smell it, its rotten stench was so thick. They must be near something positively dark.

"If I'm near too much dark magic I could relapse." Ron cocked his head.

"What?"

Harry explained what the lack of dark magic had done to him, and how just by being around it once more it had begun to cling to him, to tear at his soul. Harry didn't want to be evil, no matter what he had done before. That didn't make him evil, revenge didn't make him evil, Neville had said so.

"We aren't separating with you, Harry. If you go, we all go. If you stay, we stay."

"Ron…" Harry began quietly, before shaking his head with a small smile. "'Course, what was I thinking? Just promise to…"

"Kick your arse if you start going dark magic crazy?" Ron laughed lightly. "I will, promise."

The two sat in silence for a few more minutes, basking in each other's quiet company. They didn't need to say much.

"Take the next watch?" Ron half-asked half-demanded. He needed a few hours of sleep at least. Harry just sighed and nodded, taking Ron's place at the table. It had the most optimal view for their area of the house.

Harry could barely focus on the house though, not with the black magic around him. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The smell of it alone captivated him, and he wanted nothing more than to reach into himself and pull out every shred of good inside. Maybe that was why people went crazy under dark magic. Because they have nothing that stops them from tearing themselves apart. Harry had plenty of strength.

And yet all that screamed inside his head was 'destroy'.

Magic swirled around him as he sat awake, eyes slowly blinking. Its double-edged scent travelled up his nose, caressing his brain like that of a wanting lover. The magic wanted him, and Harry wanted to give in. He couldn't though.

Not now, and not ever.

Even as he felt it swirl around his head, even as it seemed to force itself into his lungs with every breath he took, he couldn't let it in. He wanted to, it singed his brain with its rottenly delicious scent. But he wouldn't

He needed to be up and awake, he needed to find Neville.

The next morning couldn't have come soon enough. Once Hermione had woken up, the three had eaten a small meal of eggs and toast. With Kreacher gone, Harry had been the one who offered to do all of the cooking. That bastard elf probably would have poisoned them anyway.

"Where exactly is Kreacher?" Hermione questioned. "I'd thought he'd have pushed us out already."

"I gave him clothes," Harry said simply. It had been a well crafted lie. "He had been the one to lie about Sirius' not being here, and then had tried to hurt Neville. He needed to go."

"Harry…" Said boy could feel the lecture coming. "This was his life-"

"He was a rotten bit, 'Mione. At least Harry didn't kill him or something."

"Obviously, Ron. Harry wouldn't do that."

The guilt almost made Harry sick. However, even a year later, he didn't regret it. Not one bit. Kreacher had it coming and Harry would kill him a million times over.

They had finally settled in the library, clearing it of (most of) the dust, and the two boggarts that were hiding in the corner cabinets.

Frankly, seeing a dead Ron and Neville at nine in the morning was not his preferred way to start the day, but he'd live. Bloody dementors.

"What exactly are we looking for, Hermione?" Harry asked, pulling off one of the books. This one began with an 'W', joy. For a house so "noble" and "pure" they really should have organised their library more.

"Books on horcruxes."

"But that book you grabbed from Dumbledore's office, wouldn't that be enough?" Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing.

"No, not really. It tells us what a horcrux is, but the whole thing was just babble, at least from what I was able to translate. It doesn't mention how to destroy them at all." Hermione pursed her lips. "Besides, if possible, I want to learn exactly how human horcruxes are possible."

"Basically, can it be a common thing or am I an anomaly?" Hermione looked a little sheepish.

"Course you're an anomaly, Mate! Have you seen yourself?"

"Just my amazing good looks." Harry shot back. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"'Mione! Don't agree with him!"

"What? Harry looks good. Oh don't worry Ron, I'm not choosing him over you."

"No! It's because he looks like Snape!" Ron squawked. Hermione nodded again, her cheeks slightly pink. Harry barked a laugh.

"No way!"

"Wait, what?" Ron said, confused.

"It was just my first year! Just for a day!" she squeaked.

"GROSS!" Ron looked green. Harry laughed hard, doubling over from the force of it. It almost felt like things were back to normal. If only Neville were here.

They spent the rest of the day looking through the library, pulling out every book they thought would be of help. Some of them really affected Harry. Twice, he had to move to the bathroom just to breathe. He'd pull on his shirt, gasping for air as he prayed to Time for cleaner air. The stench of dark magic was thickest in the library.

Harry scratched his hand roughly, feeling the nails dig into the skin. He was so itchy, but it hurt so bad. As a kid, he'd just run bug bites under hot water, but this wasn't the same thing. It was his whole hand, with no injury in sight. Besides the scratches from Harry's nails, of course.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry called up from the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

"You're taking ages mate," Ron's words were punctuated by his stomach growl. Harry laughed as he picked up the sandwich tray.

"Coming, coming. Just got lost in thought." Harry told them, walking up the stairs. He passed the platter to Hermione who instantly shoved a square into her mouth.

His eyes gazed at the decorations of the house, like they always did, searching for something, and yet nothing, at the same time. A stunning silver ring caught his eye, and Harry gasped.

That's right! Dumbledore's ring!

"Guys!" Harry said, rushing back into the library. The two looked up at him. "The ring! It's a horcrux!"

"Huh?"

Harry quickly got to explaining, reminding them of Severus' task, what Dumbledore had been looking for, and eventually, what started his descent into death. It was a sad tale, leaving Harry emotionally exhausted at the end of it.

Once they had finished searching for the day, Harry had retreated to the kitchen to start cleaning up. He hadn't felt like doing it right after cooking, so saving all the dishes (even if there weren't a lot) set a good stress reliever.

"Shame," Hermione mused, nursing a cup of tea. "If only Kreacher was here to clean up."

He slammed his hands on the counter, huffing. Harry had had it with her constant digs. Did S.P.E.W. mean nothing!? Hermione had even tried to give the Hogwarts house-elves socks! But the moment he gave Kreacher one, he's the worst person ever?

"I have had it! He's gone, Hermione!" Harry turned around, rage in his gaze. Not just at her, but at the memory of the elf itself. Hermione's cup of tea clattered to the table, her eyes wide.

"Harry, what did you do?" Harry felt his heart break from her tone alone. It was scared. Not for him, but of him. Hermione was scared of him. It left his insides feeling like sludge.

"Hermione, he deserved it!"

"No one deserves to die, Harry!"

"So we just leave Voldemort alive, then? Let him continue hunting us for sport!?"

"That's completely different and you know it."

"Oh, so killing people is okay, but killing your precious creatures isn't?"

"What has gotten into you!" she shouted.

"Everything! I hate this place! I hate the magic, the memories, what I did. But I'd do it again!" he countered.

"Of course you would," she practically spat. "Not enough blood on your hands?"

"No," Harry said ruthlessly. "Not yet."

"Who are you?" Neville asked, standing up. He was just asleep against a tree, how had he arrived in this fancy building?

"I am what you fear beyond all else, Neville Longbottom. I am who you will become."

Neville thought back to before he fell asleep. So he hadn't been crazy- or, maybe this was the manifestation of his crazy?

"I meant what I said, child. You will become like myself in many ways. You will not need to eat, to sleep, or even breathe. You will not feel pain. All you have to do is promise yourself to me."

"No, I can't- I need to get to Harry!"

"You'll find him soon enough. Instead, you will do tasks for me. Can you manage that?" A bony finger reached out, pressing against Neville's temple. He was suddenly reminded of the time he was rescued by Andromeda. More accurately, the feelings he felt as he watched them get ripped apart.

It was nothing short of euphoric.

"You help me, Neville Longbottom, and this is all you shall feel."

Neville clenched his hand, noticing the lack of pain in his missing digit.

"I have a task for you, Severus. One only you can do well,"

"Anything, My Lord."

"You are going to become the headmaster of Hogwarts in my stead. You will do as I please, and make decisions in my place." He threw a Crucio at Snape, hitting him square in the chest. He fell with a silent scream. "Do not think this makes you more powerful than I."

"Never, My Lord." Severus panted once the spell had released him. "You are all there is."

"See that it stays that way. I have a second task while you are there. You must find me the ring that Dumbledore stole from me." He spat the last bit, and Severus had to avoid wincing.

"I will, my lord."

Now, Severus was starting to think that the Dark Lord was even more demented than he had first thought. He had an idea of the ring he was supposed to be looking for, knowing of the one that had been killing Albus Dumbledore, but where could it be now?

He kept looking for it, ruffling through draws and libraries, pulling books out and pushing different ones back in. A knock on the door startled him. He turned to find Minerva standing there, a look of anger resting on her face.

"Decorating?" She asked, every bit as spiteful as she seemed.

"Minerva-"

"How dare you stand where he stood?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Severus bowed his head in shame and recognition.

"I did what I was told, Minerva. You knew exactly what I had to do-"

"You didn't have to! You could have disobeyed him!"

"Minerva," a slightly joyous voice said. Severus' heart squeezed. He had a portrait made? "Now is not the time to argue, if what you told me is true."

Severus turned to face where the voice was coming from. Instead of seeing an old man, he saw a much younger, happier-looking Dumbledore. His brown hair was long, his robes a plain black. This must have been made a while ago, Sevreus noted, eyeing the cut of the drawn-on robes.

"I cannot offer much help, being a portrait and all, friend, but I sense you are looking for something important! Headmaster Dippet always kept his important things in a hidden drawer compartment. Oh, how Dippet loved his muggle items. From the looks of it, I grew fond over time as well." Even in the painting, his blue eyes twinkled, and Severus rushed to the desk. He pulled open each drawer, trying to find the secret the man had mentioned. His hands brushed under one of them.

There.

He pressed the button, and the bottom of the drawer popped off to reveal a hidden (likely expanded) hole. He reached in, feeling for the ring, or a box, something. He felt it before he actually felt it. Such dark magic, such evil. If Severus was a lesser man, he'd have fallen for it right away. It was like the box was screaming to be opened, to slip on the artefact inside.

"What is it?" Minerva asked.

"The ring that was killing Albus. The Dark Lord wants it back." The woman gasped, and Dumbledore let out a humming noise.

"Does Gellert know about the ring? He was always so good with cursed objects. How is he doing? If you write in my place, I am sure he will come help." Minerva and Severus paused.

"What year were you made, Albus?"

"Ah, nineteen twenty-one (1921) I believe! A little after Gellert and I rekindle our flame, so to speak." He looked so happy, so carefree. Something neither teacher had seen, even in their days as Hogwarts students.

"Albus…" Minerva said sadly. "You put Gellert Grindelwald into prison in nineteen forty-five."

"Oh dear," The portrait said, looking suddenly sombre. There is a lot I must catch up on."