Accounting For DUMmIES 4th

HARRY POTTER AND THE END OF THE MARK
Harry Potter
and the
End of the Mark
Harry Potter
and the
End of the Mark
by
Adam Towne is an avid Harry Potter fan A. P. Towne
and a senior at the Collegiate School
in New York City. He wrote Harry Potter
and the End of the Mark for his senior proj-
ect. Next fall, he plans to study engineering
at Cornell University. This is his first novel.
Madeline Lieberberg is a sophomore in high school and

an enthusiastic Harry Potter fan. TOwne
Cover illustration copyright © 2006 by Madeline

Lieberberg.
 FAN FICTION 
Not For Sale 
HARRY POTTER
AND THE END OF THE MARK
HARRY POTTER
by
A. P. Towne
ILLUSTRATIONS BY MADELINE LIEBERBERG

Fan FIction
★
★
★ ★
★ ★
★
★ ★
Text copyright © 2006 by A. P. Towne
Cover Art and Illustrations copyright © 2006
by Madeline Lieberberg
Harry Potter and the End of thE

Mark
is published as fan fiction and is not intended for sale.
Printed in the U.S.A.

First printing May 2006
TO MY PARENTS
STAN AND MADELENE,
MY SISTERS
SARA AND RACHEL,
AND
J. K. ROWLING
WHO STARTED IT ALL
CONTENTS
ONE
An Unexpected Visitor · 1
TWO
A Rare Occasion · 18
THREE
Flight in the Night · 42
FOUR
Godric's Hollow · 59
FIVE
Apparent Lack of Progress · 77
SIX
Bargaining With Borgin · 88
SEVEN
The Old Smith House · 102
EIGHT
All in One Piece ·117
NINE
The Phoenix Falls · 132
TEN
Dung’s Demise · 150
ELEVEN
In Darkest Night · 165
TWELVE
An Old Friend · 181
THIRTEEN
The Greater of Two Evils · 196
FOURTEEN
The Halls of Durmstrang · 214
FIFTEEN
The Cup of the Badger · 230
SIXTEEN
Necare Horcrux · 244
SEVENTEEN
Return of an Enemy · 258
EIGHTEEN
Special Services · 275
NINETEEN
In the Locket’s Grip · 292
TWENTY
Gargle a Poison · 308
TWENTY-ONE
Mortal Again · 325
TWENTY-TWO
Daybreak · 345
HARRY POTTER
Chapter One
An Unexpected Visitor
The night at the Dursley’s house was as uneventful as

any other. Well, almost as uneventful. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley
went off to bed at around 10:00, leaving their son Dudley
in complete control of the house, and more importantly, the
refrigerator. At the moment, Dudley, or Dudders, as Petunia
affectionately called him, was gorging himself on all the food
he could find. He had just gone through his fifth cup of pud-
ding when he heard a loud crash coming from the living room.
“Burglars,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pudding. Then,
upon realizing what he had just said, he scurried up the stairs

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screaming, “Mummy! Daddy! There’s a burglar downstairs.

Hurry!”
“What’s all this yelling, Dudley?” Uncle Vernon replied
grouchily, rubbing his eyes as he rolled out of bed.
“And what is that smear of chocolate all over your face
and shirt?” Petunia interrupted. “You haven’t been raiding the
fridge again, have you? You know the doctor said only one desert
a week. Honestly, how can you expect to lose any weight if you
keep eating like you have? There will be no more deserts for the
next few weeks.” Seeing that Dudley was about to respond to
her punishment, Petunia firmly stated, “None! Really, Dudley,
you should be ash—“
“B-B-Burglars,” Dudley managed to respond, cowering
in fear. He looked on the verge of tears. Petunia held him close,
saying that everything would be just fine, and that Daddy was
going downstairs to have a look. In actuality, Dudley’s fear came
from the threat of losing more deserts and not from the ruckus
that had come from downstairs not five minutes before.
Huffing and puffing, Uncle Vernon came upstairs a
few minutes later, looking entirely bewildered. “I looked every-
where,” he rasped out, clearly exhausted from his search. Uncle
Vernon had not moved that quickly since he was a boy, and it

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was clear that the sudden movement placed a serious strain on

his body. “Good boy, Dudley. You must have scared them off.
No robbers would dare mess with you; why, I bet you could
have pounded them into a pulp.” Petunia suggested that they
all go downstairs to see what was stolen, and to discuss what
happened, but Dudley was more interested in receiving a reward
for his brave action.
“A bit of pudding for the hero?” Dudley asked, hoping
for more dessert.
“No,” Petunia replied sternly, forcing him back with her
gaze. “You have already had your desert for this week, and the
next, and probably even the week after that.”
All three Dursleys trudged downstairs, each one looking
unhappy in some manner or another. Uncle Vernon was still
puzzled by the mysterious intruder, Aunt Petunia annoyed by
Dudley’s perpetual need for nourishment, and Dudley anxious
to find the next snack that he could lay his very fat hands on.
As all three sat down in the living room, they were surprised to
see a guest materialize out of the air, and pull up a chair next
to them.
All three were rendered speechless by the sight of an
adolescent boy in long flowing robes. In his right hand, he held

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a wand, and in his left, some sort of a cloak. On his forehead

there was a lightning scar. There was a tired, haunted look in his
eyes, a look of great sorrow. This did not concern the Dursleys,
however. When the three were able to finally speak again, the
first words that came from Uncle Vernon’s mouth were, “Out!
Out! Get out of my house right now! You are not welcome
here, you, you, wizard.” He spat out the last word in anger, hat-
ing to use the words wizard, magic, or anything that connected
his family with something extraordinary.
Harry changed the grip on his wand, holding it a bit
more tightly. Seeing the movement in Harry’s right hand, Uncle
Vernon cried, “No you don’t! Do not even think about bran-
dishing that wand against us, boy! Besides, you are not allowed
to use magic over the summer. Even we know that.” Showing
no sign of fear, Harry raised his wand higher, taking great care
to point it straight at the chest of Mr. Dursley.
“I will be spending the night in your house, and there is
nothing you can do to stop me. As long as I can call this place
a home, I will be safe from Voldemort.” Even the Dursleys
shuddered at the sound of his name, but not for the same
reason as the Wizarding World. To them, Voldemort was just
another wizard and his name was just as evil as that of Professor

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Dumblydoor, or Dumdelbore, or whoever that man that paid

them a visit last summer was.
“We can stop you, all right. Without the use of magic
you are nothing more than a scraggly teenager, a teenager that is
unwelcome in this house,” Mr. Dursley replied angrily.
“Oh, I do have the use of magic, Uncle Vernon,” Harry
replied with an unkind smirk. His hatred of the Dursleys and his
sadness at the loss of Dumbledore this past summer was cours-
ing through his veins. Harry did not feel like being particularly
pleasant right now.
“No you don’t. There are rules. You cannot go back to
that school unless you refrain from using magic over the sum-
mer.” The final sentence came out with less conviction than
Mr. Dursley had wanted to show. He was no longer sure that
the rules applied. They should, shouldn’t they? But maybe the
rules have all changed since the rise of that Voldwart character,
or whatever his name is. Mr. Dursley had no intention in keep-
ing up with the goings-on in the Wizarding World, but for a
moment, he wished he had.
“There are no rules anymore as far as I am concerned,”
Harry replied menacingly. He really did intend to follow the
rules, at least for the next few days, but he was hoping that

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Uncle Vernon would back down after hearing the tone of his
voice. “I am spending tonight in this house.”
Seeing that the situation was threatening to become out
of hand, Petunia calmly entered the conversation. She hoped
that a few kind words would deter any violence against her hus-
band. “Vernon, we did make a promise to Professor Dumble-
dore. Harry is allowed to return here so that he can be protected.
Besides, Professor Dumbledore said that he would punish us
should we not comply with his wishes.”
“Dumbledore is dead,” Harry spluttered out. Realizing
what he had just said, he now wished he had kept his mouth
shut. The Dursleys would send him out for sure, and there was
nothing that he could do to stop them.
“Do you hear that, Petunia? Dumblybore is dead. He
can’t carry out his threat against us now. I say that we force
Harry out of the house right now, right now.” He emphasized
the last few words, already moving to push Harry towards the
door.
Harry stopped him with a slight flick of the wand. He
did not actually cast a spell, but he knew the motion would be
enough to prevent Mr. Dursley from making any more sudden
movements. “Don’t come any nearer. I am going to stay here the

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night, and that is final.” For a moment Uncle Vernon paused,

looking around the room to see if anything had changed from
the wand’s movement. Assured by the stillness in the room, he
strode forwards.
Petunia reached out and started to pull Vernon back.
Angrily, he brushed her off and moved towards Harry again.
This time, however, there was fear in Vernon’s eyes. Harry con-
tinued, “How would you like me to ensure that you will never
be able to leave your house again? I can do that you know? I
will enchant your refrigerator so that you do not starve to death,
and I will lock all your doors and windows. Maybe I’ll even
place another tail on Dudders. I think it would be even more
fitting now,” he said harshly, eyeing the chocolate pudding all
over Dudley’s shirt.
“Let him stay father, let him stay,” Dudley whimpered,
clutching his backside. Well, he was trying to anyway. He could
not seem to make his hands meet around his back. “Please don’t
give him reason to hurt me.”
Grudgingly, Uncle Vernon ushered Harry to a large arm-
chair. Vernon took the other armchair, and Petunia and Dudley
squeezed together on a very large couch. Smirking a little to
himself, Harry could not help but notice that had Dudley been

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thinner, there would have been room for perhaps a third, or

even a fourth person. Realizing that the danger had passed,
Harry tucked his wand back into his robes, and delicately laid
the invisibility cloak across his lap. Harry amicably said, “Thank
you for your hospitality. No matter how much you may not like
it, I need to tell you of what has been going on in the Wizarding
World. These changes will affect your lives as well, and I feel
that as family, even if we do not like each other very much, I
should inform you of the possibility of a Death Eater attack in
the near future.”
“Death Eater?” Dudley replied, looking vaguely inter-
ested. The word “Eater” had once again sparked the thought
of food in his mind. He rubbed his stomach absentmindedly,
wondering if these “Death Eaters” had any good snacks.
“Dark wizards,” Aunt Petunia answered. Long ago,
Uncle Vernon would have been surprised that she knew so much
about the Wizarding World, but after last summer, he realized
that Petunia was much more knowledgeable about those other
worldly things than he ever thought possible. Nothing about her
came as a surprise to him anymore. “Continue, please,” Petunia
said politely, reaching out and squeezing Uncle Vernon’s hand to
calm him. Dudley stared longingly at the kitchen, thinking that

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these Death Eaters were far less interesting than what was sitting
in the refrigerator, waiting to be devoured.
“Voldemort,” Harry continued, “is the man who killed
my parents. The Death Eaters are his loyal followers. They have
grown in number recently, thinking that they will soon be vic-
torious now that Dumbledore is dead. I am now burdened with
defeating Voldemort in a duel. After tomorrow, you will never
see me again. I will either be victorious and start a new life else-
where, or I will die at Voldemort’s hands.” At these words, Mr.
Dursley let out a faint smile, but Harry did not mind. He knew
that his uncle wanted nothing more than for Harry to die or to
be out of his life forever.
Hearing that Harry might die, Dudley looked over at
Harry eagerly, and for the first time realized that Harry’s legs
were missing. “Mum, Dad, his legs. Where are Harry’s legs?”
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley glanced over at Harry as well, and noticed
the same thing. Where Harry’s legs should be, all they saw was
the front of the chair.
Harry calmly looked down at his own feet, and sheep-
ishly pulled the invisibility cloak off. “Sorry. I forgot to tell
you about my invisibility cloak. You see, my legs did not really
just disappear. They became invisible.” The Dursleys all gaped

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at Harry in shock, wondering what other kinds of weird wizard

occurrences were in store for them that night. Uncle Vernon
might have yelled were it not for the wand sitting in Harry’s
right pocket, and the very determined boy sitting across from
him that seemed ready to use it.
“The reason it is so important that I stay here is that if
you do not let me sleep here tonight, there could be no more
Privet Drive by the end of the month. I have no doubt that the
Death Eaters will attack the heart of London soon, and Privet
Drive is conveniently on their path of destruction.” Harry real-
ized how confident he sounded, and how his words flowed with
the eloquence of Dumbledore. It must be part of coming of age,
he thought to himself, and realized that the protection obtained
by calling this unwelcome household home might only last one
month longer.
“So you are saying that those people, those Death Eaters,
are very likely going to come here and destroy our house?” Uncle
Vernon asked in a worried tone.
“Not just Privet Drive,” Harry replied. “They would
probably destroy all of England. I am the world’s only chance of
stopping him, and if you do not let me stay here the night, they
probably will kill me one month sooner. For that, I owe you my
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gratitude.” For a moment, Uncle Vernon looked as though he

pondered forcing Harry out so that the Death Eaters would kill
him, but Harry coolly reminded them that, “If they kill me, you
will, without a doubt, die as well. They hate Muggles.”
Vernon recalled hearing the word Muggle before, but
could not quite remember what it meant. “Muggles?” he asked
resignedly. He would never be able to keep all these wizarding
words straight, nor would he want to.
“Us. Non-magic folk,” Petunia translated tiredly. It
seemed that she really wanted to go to bed.
Looking at his clock, Harry saw that it was already mid-
night. With a yawn, he asked, “Do I still have my old room?”
“Yes, of course, Harry,” Petunia replied, much more cor-
dially than usual. She either did not seem as cold-hearted when
she was tired, or she was just as afraid of him as the two very
large men in the room.
“I’ll go off to bed then.” As Harry walked upstairs, he
looked down carefully behind him, watching the exhausted
Petunia extricate herself from the couch and head off to the
kitchen to see what damage Dudders had done. Uncle Vernon
had fallen asleep in his chair, and Dudley knew not to wake him.
Trying not to come any closer than he had to, Dudley strode up
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the stairs once he had heard Harry’s door creak shut. Physically
and mentally drained, Harry crept into bed and promptly fell
asleep.
* * *
Harry awoke the next morning with a searing pain in
his forehead. He had experienced aches like these before, and
knew that Voldemort had just done something awful to some-
one in the world. This incident must have been particularly bad,
because Harry usually only felt these pains when Voldemort was
unable to control his Occlumency. Harry leapt out of bed and
threw his wizard’s robes on, eager to learn of Voldemort’s latest
evildoing, but worried about what it was.
As he came downstairs, he heard Petunia shriek, “Out!
Out! Ruddy Owl! Shoo! Fly Away!” She waved her hands
frantically towards the door, but when the owl saw Harry, it
swooped down onto the table and looked up at him expectantly.
Once Harry reached the kitchen table, he pulled out a bronze
Knut from his robes and handed it to the owl. The owl dropped
the paper, and flew out the window.
“Sorry about that, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said softly,
trying to hold back a chuckle that was inching its way up his
throat. “I forgot that the owl was coming to drop off the Daily
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Prophet.”
“Are you ready to leave yet?” Petunia asked coldly. She
did not seem to be ready to forgive Harry for the owl incident.
Harry couldn’t blame her; he was not exactly sorry about it
himself.
“I just need some breakfast, and then I will be on my
way.” Aunt Petunia handed Harry a quarter of a grapefruit. “So
we are back on that diet, are we?” Harry thought to himself that
it was a good thing that they were back on that diet. Harry was
surprised that Dudley could still fit through the doorways, he
was so big.
“Yes. And be thankful that I gave you any breakfast at
all.”
“I’m not even sure I need to eat here for the spell to
work, but it is better to be safe than sorry,” Harry said aloud,
more to himself than to Aunt Petunia. Harry heard a loud
thumping noise as Dudley, the whale, came downstairs.
“Good morning, Mum,” Dudley said grumpily. “What
was all that shouting earlier? And why are you here?” Dudley
jabbed a fat finger in Harry’s direction. “I thought that I was
dreaming last night.”
“Well, you weren’t and I’ll be leaving in a few minutes
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anyway.”
As promised, Harry rose from the dinner table and
strode over to the fireplace, near where Uncle Vernon sat read-
ing his paper. For a moment, Harry considered sitting down on
the other armchair and reading the Daily Prophet, but decided
that the moving images might be too much for the anti-magic
Dursleys.
As he pulled the bag of Floo-Powder from his pocket,
he coolly informed Uncle Vernon that Mr. Weasley would
promptly disconnect his house from the Floo Network as soon
as Harry reached the Burrow.
“Mister who? And what network are we on? Do I have
to pay for this?” Mr. Dursley replied in a huff.
“Mr. Weasley,” Harry replied. “He’s the bloke who
shrunk Dudley’s tongue back to normal size a few years ago. It’s
called the Floo Network, and it’s free, so don’t worry about it.”
With that, Harry sprinkled the Floo Powder over his head, dis-
tinctly said “The Burrow,” and popped into the Weasley house,
leaving a plume of green smoke and ash behind.
* * *
“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley shouted, anxious for his return.
“I was worried that we were going to have to go in there after
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you. They did not cause you any trouble, did they?”
“No,” Harry replied with a smirk on his face. “I was just
having a spot of breakfast.”
“Good, good. Ron and Hermione are upstairs. I’ve
already unpacked all your things, and Hedwig has gone out for
a bite to eat. I’ll leave you to it then.” As Mrs. Weasley walked
away, all Harry could think of is that he wished that she had not
gone through such trouble to unpack his things. Harry planned
to only be at the Weasley house until after Bill’s wedding.
Once that was over, he intended to head to Godric’s Hollow to
uncover a little more of the mystery that was his past. He had no
intention of telling this to Mrs. Weasley of course. If she knew,
she would have thrown a fit and locked Harry up to prevent him
from escaping. She would probably sit there all night to make
sure that he did not try to escape, too. Harry smiled, happy to
have friends like the Weasleys.
“Ron, Hermione, I’m back,” Harry called softly as
he walked up the stairs. As he turned the corner towards the
room, he could have sworn that he saw Ron move away from
Hermione’s side, but perhaps his eyes were just playing tricks
on him.
“So it’s done then? The enchantment will last until your
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birthday,” Hermione inquired.

“I don’t feel any different. But I think that the visit has
done its job. It was a right lot of trouble getting Mr. Dursley
to let me spend the night. Why, I even threatened them a few
times.”
“Weren’t they afraid of Dumbledore?” Ron asked.
Harry grimaced. “I let it slip that Dumbledore is dead.
Once they knew that, they had no reason to keep their promise.
It was only by threatening Dudley with a tail was I able to stay
the night.”
“Harry, you wouldn’t have.” Hermione looked morti-
fied. The thought of threatening a Muggle with magic was too
much for her. “That would have made you like one of them.”
“Of course not, Hermione. I had no intention of break-
ing the rules.” Seeing the look on her face, he added hastily,
“Or of harming them. I just needed to stay the night at that
house.”
Just then, Mr. Weasley entered the room. “Harry, did
your uncle give you that eclectic drill I was asking about?”
Harry knew of Mr. Weasley’s fascination with Muggle inven-
tions, but he knew enough not to further annoy his hot-headed
uncle. Staying the night was one thing, but by asking for a drill,
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Harry would have certainly overstepped his bounds.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley. Uncle Vernon said that he did
not have any in the house.”
“Oh well, perhaps I can get an eclectic drill some other
time. You say that they are used to build things, but why don’t
they just glue everything together? Wouldn’t glue work just as
well? It is just so odd. Bye now, I’m off to work.” With that, Mr.
Weasley left the room, shaking his head in puzzlement.
17
Chapter Two
A Rare Occasion
“Geroff me,” Ron mumbled, as Hermione shook him

awake. “Aragog, don’t eat me. Wouldn’t you rather eat a nice,
juicy bundimun? Let go, please let—”
“Ron, Ron. Wake up,” Hermione whispered softly, try-
ing not to disturb Harry who was in the next bed. Ron sat up in
the bed, eyes closed, and thrashed about wildly for a moment.
He knocked Hermione on her back with a loud thud, and she
glanced over at Harry to make sure that he was still asleep.
“Would you keep it down?” she hissed. “I need to ask you
something.”
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“What are you doing in my room?” Ron asked bluntly.

His brain seemed to be moving far more sluggishly than his
body. “What did you wake me up for anyway?”
“I came to ask you if you think that Harry acted strangely
this past week.” Hermione straightened up and looked around
the room, making sure that Harry was not just pretending to be
a sleep. “He seemed to be meaner than usual, almost as though
he was not himself.”
“Hermione,” Ron replied incredulously. “You don’t hon-
estly think that Harry is under the Imperius Curse, do you? He
was just angry about seeing the Dursleys, that’s all. You really
do get worked up about these things, don’t you? Harry seemed
perfectly fine to me. I’m going back to bed.” He turned away
from Hermione and adjusted the pillow beneath his head.
“Ron,” Hermione whispered loudly, turning him back
towards her. “I don’t think that Harry is under the Imperius
Curse, but I do think that Dumbledore’s death shook him up
greatly. Harry actually saw him die and he looks like a wreck
because of it.”
“Hermione, I do think that Harry is shaken up, but he
has always snapped out of it before. I mean, he saw Cedric die,
didn’t he?”
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“It’s not the same Ron. Dumbledore was his teacher

and the head of Hogwarts. Cedric was just a boy from
Hufflepuff.”
“Well, we can’t let people see that Harry is exhibiting
weakness. The Wizarding World would collapse knowing that
The Chosen One is afraid.”
“Now you sound like Rufus Scrimgeour,” Hermione
replied indignantly. “Ron, he’s our friend. Dumbledore is the
only one that You-Know-Who has ever feared, and now that
he is gone, Harry does not know if he will be able to make a
stand.”
“A stand against what?” Harry interrupted, completely
alert. He had been having a pleasant dream where Snape was
repeatedly dunked in a vat of undiluted bubotuber puss. The
pustules on his body kept forming until he apologized for mur-
dering Albus Dumbledore. Then, as soon as they healed, he was
dunked in the vat again. Harry knew that it had not been a very
nice thought, but then again, Snape had not been a very nice
person.
“Nothing. We were just reviewing what was happening
in the wedding. Hermione wanted to go over where she should
be standing during the ceremony,” Ron hastily answered, look-
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ing away from Harry.

“As long as we’re going over what parts we are doing
this afternoon, would you tell me what to do again, Ron?”
Somehow, Ron had managed to learn everyone’s part in the
wedding backwards and forwards, and he became the resident
expert on what to do during the ceremony. Fleur spent the last
few days running around the house frantically and could not
be bothered to answer anyone’s questions. Once Ron showed
that he knew what to do, the family quickly turned to him for
guidance.
“Your part is easy Harry. If you just follow me, every-
thing will be fine. We will stand in a diagonal with the best man
first, then me, then you. On the opposite side, Gabrielle, Ginny,
and Hermione will stand at another diagonal. We should look
something like a triangle with an open base. It’s really not that
difficult to understand.”
“And the boys all stand on Bill’s side, correct?” Harry
asked, finally understanding a bit more of what he had to do.
The practice had been cut short yesterday because of heavy rain,
and having never seen a wedding before, Harry did not under-
stand what was going on.
“And I stand on Phelgm’s side,” Hermione added help-
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fully.
“Just be nice, Hermione. Fleur is part of the family
now.”
“Don’t worry, Ron. I’ll be polite,” Hermione replied
with an edge to her voice. “After all, she is family.”
* * *
It looked as though it were going to rain again. Well,
ever since Voldemort’s rise to power it always looked as though
it were going to rain. As death and destruction swept across
England, pillars of smoke rising from the ruined towns shroud-
ed the English country sky in darkness. At the Weasley’s house,
however, it actually was about to rain. From the garden where
the wedding was about to begin, all of the guests could see the
lightning crackling down and hear the thunder roaring nearby.
“No,” Fleur cried in her heavy accent. “Eet eez going to
rain on moi wedding day.”
Behind her,Hermione and Ginny were giggling to them-
selves. They were both excited to see what further wailing would
come from Fleur’s mouth. Hermione always found it difficult to
speak to Ron when Fleur was nearby, usually because his gaze
kept wandering towards Fleur every few seconds. “Serves Fleur
right,” she thought to herself quietly. Then, seeing that Fleur
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was on the brink of tears, Hermione gently offered, “I’ll keep

the rain at bay; just give me a few minutes to cast some water
repellant spells around the area. Keep everyone busy, and I’ll see
what I can do.”
Soon, Hermione had finished casting a protective dome
around the wedding area. After checking for rips, tears, and
holes in the enchantment, she decided that it would keep the
rain away just fine. As always, Hermione’s enchantment worked
perfectly, and she watched with glee as the clouds moved around
the dome, keeping the sky bright and sunny above the wedding
area. With a mumbled, “Thank you,” Fleur briskly walked to
her father, who would be taking her down the aisle. Fleur’s
father was a tall man, and very handsome. He had blonde hair
that was so sparse that it barely covered the top of his head, and
piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore right into your soul when
he looked at you. From where she stood, Hermione could see
that Fleur’s father was certainly no detriment to the looks that
her half-Veela mother had given Fleur.
With a burst of music from the organ, Fleur and her
father began to walk down the aisle towards Bill, whose mangled
face looked at her expectantly. A few steps behind her stood
Gabrielle, stunning in her gold dress. She had grown up in the
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three years since Harry had last saved her, and she looked even
more like her sister. Following close behind was Ginny, who
looked up at Bill every so often as if to say, “Are you sure you
want to go through with this?” She trudged along the rest of the
time with her head down, looking into her bouquet of Golden
Snorgleblooms, which constantly secreted a pleasant aroma.
Behind her walked Hermione, who kept staring up at the sky in
awe of the enchantment she had put around the wedding area.
It was the largest enchantment she had done yet, and she wished
that Professor Flitwick could have seen her. Unfortunately, she
did not look where she was going and walked into Ginny.
“Ouch,” Ginny whispered, turning to look back at
Hermione. “You stepped on my heel.”
“Sorry,” Hermione replied. “I’ll try to watch where I
am going.”
“Don’t try,” Ginny replied with a smirk. “Succeed.”
At that, Hermione tried to stifle her giggle in her bou-
quet, but when she looked up, many eyes were on her. “Sorry,”
she whispered to the guests, as she tried to compose herself. She
finally reached her spot on the platform, and turned to face the
crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron wink at her,
and she gave him a quick smile back.
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“We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Bill

Weasley and Fleur Delacour, who in this time of great adversity
have chosen to join themselves in a bond of love,” the priest
began. “It is in times like these when marriage is so important,
when decisions must be made, and when happiness must be
found. In these dark times, marriage is a beacon of light in the
darkness, a darkness which may soon consume the world. Even
if the shroud of evil covers the skies, the brilliant light of love
that Bill and Fleur have created will not flicker and die.” Bill
looked over at Fleur and smiled, but he could see the tears begin
to well up in her eyes. The priest continued, “A long time ago,
marriage was bound by an unbreakable vow. The priest joined
the husband and wife with the bond of holy matrimony, and
they promised only to part on pain of death. Conveniently,
breaking an unbreakable vow causes death to the perpetrator,
so the method was not as effective as it could have been. If one
wanted to kill one’s wife, one only need provoke her until she
wanted a divorce. This presented numerous—”
“Ehh. Ehh.” Mr. Weasley cleared his through loudly.
“Could we continue with the wedding, please?”
“Oh, yes,” the priest replied. “Anyway, now you will
make a legally breakable vow, instead of the unbreakable vow.
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It is far safer, and one only need go to the Department of

Marriage at the Ministry of Magic in order to file for a divorce.
Incidentally, Mr. Weasley, I do think that the Department of
Marriage has been moved to your old office. Now, do you, Bill
Weasley, take Fleur Delacour to be your lawfully wedded witch,
until death do you part?”
“I do,” Bill replied as he touched the tip of the wand to
the priest’s.
“Good. And do you, Fleur Delacour, take Bill Weasley
to be your lawfully wedded wizard, until death do you part?”
“Yes, I do,” Fleur answered softly, tears beginning to run
down her cheeks. She touched her wand to the priest’s.
“Good. I now pronounce you, wizard and witch. You
may kiss the witch.” With that, a column of silver smoke shot
up into the air, signifying the completion of the legally break-
able vow, and Bill pulled Fleur close, and passionately kissed her
on the lips. Harry looked around the garden, and saw that Mrs.
Weasley was in tears. Beside her, Fred and George were applaud-
ing vigorously and cheering loudly for Bill. Next to them sat
Charlie, who looked as though he had been in one too many
fights against a Hungarian Horntail. In the last set of chairs,
Harry thought he could make out the faces of Percy Weasley and
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Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic. His last talk with the
Minister had ended just as unpleasantly as always, with an angry
Rufus looking at Harry’s back as he walked away.
Seeing that Harry was no longer paying attention to
what he was supposed to do, Ron quickly jabbed him in the
chest with his elbow. “C’mon already. They’ve already started
walking away from the altar.” Obediently, Harry followed Ron
away from the ceremony, eyes darting from one guest to the
next. His eyes fell upon a woman in the seats who was dazzlingly
beautiful, so beautiful, in fact, that he had trouble turning his
eyes away from her. When he was in control of himself again,
he quickly closed his jaw, trying to regain some measure of com-
posure that he had lost just moments before. He finally reached
his table and found his place card. Ginny, who sat next to him,
beckoned him to sit as she slid her chair to the left in order to
make it easier for him to take a seat.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Harry?” Ginny inquired
anxiously.
“No, I guess not. I’m sure I made loads of mistakes
though,” Harry replied.
“You sound just like Hermione after an exam,” Ron
replied as he took a seat. “Don’t worry, you were great.” Ron
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turned to Hermione, who had just sat down next to him. “And
you, you were brilliant. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”
Hermione beamed back at him. “I guess it was a pretty
good piece of magic.”
“No one could have done it better,” Ron replied, squeez-
ing her hand gently. “Where did you learn that bit of magic
anyway?”
“Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione replied promptly.
“You really should read it some time, Ron. The weather con-
trolling spells used to be used on Quidditch pitches after the
Snarling Fiasco.”
“The what fiasco?” Harry replied, now interested because
of the mention of Quidditch.
“Honestly, don’t you two read? The Snarling Fiasco was
a series of lawsuits against Adrian Snarling, a Ravenclaw Seeker
who enchanted his broom to be resistant to lightning strikes.
Snarling would do the opposite of the Wronski Feint, tricking
fellow Seekers to fly up towards the clouds in a rainstorm, think-
ing he had spotted the Golden Snitch. They would be promptly
struck by lightning and collapse to the ground. Snarling would
then catch the Snitch without interference for the rest of the
match.”
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“Bloody brilliant,” Ron interrupted eagerly.

“For a time,” Hermione continued, acting as though
Ron had not spoken at all, “Hogwarts would climate control
the Quidditch pitch so that all games would be played under
sunny conditions. After careful consideration, however, the next
Headmaster, Professor Kowplunkt, I think it was, decided that
Quidditch was far less exciting without rain, snow, or whatever
conditions nature would throw at the players. He changed the
rules so that brooms were inspected before matches by the Heads
of Houses, and that is the way it has remained every since.”
“Why wasn’t that in Quidditch Through the Ages?” Harry
asked.
“Clearly, the rule changes at Hogwarts were not impor-
tant enough to have a place in that book. The only mention of
the Snarling Fiasco that I found has been in Hogwarts, A History.
Granted, I have read mostly history and spell books, and I have
not done much research into Quidditch at all.”
“So Hogwarts, A History, instructs you on how to do the
enchantment?” Ron asked in surprise.
“No, but it contains a reference to another book in the
library, Foul or Fair. That book is all about controlling weather
conditions in small areas, and it had precise instructions for the
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area protection enchantment that I put around your garden this

morning.”
By that time, the rest of the Weasley and Delacour
families had sat down at the table. Gabrielle sat next to Ginny,
and Fleur and Bill were directly across from them. By Bill’s side
were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were both so happy that they
grinned broadly. Every so often, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley dab
at her eyes with the corner of her napkin. At Fleur’s side of the
table sat Mr. and Mrs. Delacour. Mrs. Delacour was half-Veela,
her mother a full-blooded member of the beautiful species.
Despite her age, she was as stunning, if not more so than Fleur,
and Ron was having trouble keeping his eyes off of her during
the meal.
“Blimey, Harry,” he whispered when the fruit appetiz-
ers had been put in front of them. “I can’t keep my eyes off of
her.”
“Who?” Harry replied looking puzzled. “Hermione?”
“No, that would not be a problem. I keep staring at
Fleur’s mum.”
“Well, snap out of it. Start up a conversation with some-
one else at the table. If you speak to Hermione, I’m sure you’ll
forget about Fleur’s mum for a while.”
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“Right.” Ron turned to Hermione. “The food looks

good, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes. The fruit is delicious.” Hermione cut a piece
of melon from the slice in front of her, and began to chew it
slowly. But Ron wasn’t listening to her any more. His eyes had
strayed over to Fleur’s mother once again, but a sharp stab from
Hermione’s elbow brought him out of his daydream.
“Ow.” Ron rubbed his chest. “That hurt.”
“Rubbish, Ron. Stop staring at Fleur’s mum and I won’t
have to jab you in the chest to get you to pay attention to me.”
“Sorry,” Ron replied sheepishly.
Seeing the two of them engaged in conversation, Harry
turned to the somewhat charred body of the Weasley two seats
away from him. “You must be Charlie.”
“And you must be Harry Potter. Ron has told me an
awful lot about you, well, when I see him of course,” Charlie
began amicably. “The scar makes it rather obvious as well.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Charlie.” Harry offered his
hand across the table, and Charlie grasped it firmly. The muscles
in his arms were large and toned; his line of work had made him
strong. Harry found himself wishing that Charlie had been there
the night that Dumbledore died. He would have been useful
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in that battle. He might even have been able to stop the vicious
attack of Fenrir Greyback that had mutilated Bill’s once hand-
some face. As he looked into Charlie’s face, Harry knew that so
many things could have turned out differently had Charlie been
in the battle.
“Good to meet you too. I haven’t sat with all of my fam-
ily in a long time.” He glanced back at Percy, who was sitting at
a table with Scrimgeour. “Well, almost all of my family.”
“Don’t mind Percy. He’ll come around soon enough.
Professor Dumbledore always said that it was easier to forgive
when you were right than when you were wrong.”
“How true that is. Do you see this scar?” Charlie
pointed to a burn mark on his left jawbone. Harry nodded. “I
got this from a fierce one out in Romania.” He paused as the
waiters collected their bowls of fruit and brought out steam-
ing cup of soup. “Well this looks quite good. Anyway, study-
ing dragons is a dangerous job, believe me. Actually, this was
more of fighting a dragon, rather than studying it. You see, a
Ukrainian Ironbelly...”
“A Ukrainian Ironbelly? What’s that?”
“I forget that people frequently don’t know these things.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly is the largest dragon in world—”
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“It is most famous for having carried off a large vessel

on the Black Sea in 1799,” Hermione interrupted. Harry and
Charlie both gave her a blank stare. “What? It is all in Fantastic
Beasts and Where to Find Them. Ron keeps looking over at Fleur’s
mum, and my elbow is starting to hurt from jabbing him so
much. Do you mind if I join your conversation for a while?”
“N-n-no, not at all,” Charlie replied. Her knowledge
of dragons completely stunned him. “Do you enjoy studying
dragons as well?”
“No, Hermione just knows everything.” Harry gave her
a playful shove, and Hermione bumped into Ron.
“What? Did I miss something?” Ron asked, coming out
of a daze.
Hermione shook her head. “We were just talking to
Charlie. You can go back to what you were doing.”
Ron looked down. “Oh, soup.” He picked up his
spoon and started eating. “Wasn’t there supposed to be fruit
before this?”
“There was. Don’t you remember?” Hermione answered,
but Ron’s eyes had already glazed over and he began to stare at
Fleur’s mother once more.
Charlie’s call of “back to dragons, then” brought Harry
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and Hermione back to reality. “So, a Ukrainian Ironbelly had

lost its territory in Ukraine, and it decided to find a new home
in Romania. As you know, we have a large Romanian Longhorn
preserve in Romania, and we try to make sure that each spe-
cies of dragon has its own territory and that its population
level remains stable. The Ironbelly’s arrival in Romania threw
everything off-balance. As soon as it landed, it began to thrash
its large tail about, crushing the houses of the Romanians in a
small town near our base.
“More importantly, it began to impinge on the terri-
tory of some of our Romanian Longhorns. The leader of the
base in Romania sent out a group of twenty wizards against the
Ironbelly, a group which I was to lead. We were only supposed
to subdue it, not kill it. When we got there, the Ironbelly had
already decimated much of the countryside and was locked in
fierce combat with the Romanian Longhorn. All twenty of us
stepped forward into the grove and cast Stupefy at the same
time.
“Let me say that they are not kidding when they call
it an Ironbelly. The Stupefy spells bounced straight off his
underbelly and he continued to fight again. Unfortunately,
I had to result to the Conjunctivitis Curse, which slowed the
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Ironbelly down, but it made him even angrier. He thrashed his

tail about madly, crushing the few trees that remained standing
and knocking a few of my fellow wizards hundreds of meters
up into the air. Surprisingly, the Romanian Longhorn finished
the fight and saved the remaining wizards. It bore its horns into
the stomach of the Ironbelly, weakening it just enough that we
could use our Stupefy spells to stun it.
“When the Ironbelly woke up, it was in the large cage
that we used to transport our Longhorns to their territories.
Unfortunately, the Ironbelly is far stronger and it succeeded
in destroying the cage it was in and flew back to the Ukraine.
Regardless, I got a promotion to Class C, the third highest rank
in the base.”
“And the scratch just underneath the burn mark?” Harry
inquired at the end of the story.
“That was from the fight I had afterwards. The Class B
leader on the base didn’t want me to go out. He thought that the
Longhorn could have handled the situation on its own and that
we need not save the lives of the Romanian villagers. When I got
back, having succeeded in my mission, he was angry with me for
quite a while afterwards. One evening he had a bit too much to
drink and picked a fight. He ended up with a two rank demo-
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tion, Class D, and I ended up with a scar on my left cheekbone.

He never did forgive me for going out on that mission and for
succeeding where he could not. I guess you could say that it is
easier to forgive when you are right than it is for you to forgive
when you are wrong.”
“Wow,” Harry and Hermione whispered in unison.
“But you know what I would really like to hear about,
Harry.”
“What?”
“The Hungarian Horntail you battled in the first task
of the Triwizard Tournament. That must have been one of the
hardest things that you have done in your entire life.”
“Yes, I suppose it was. Although, I’d still rather face
off against another Horntail than against Voldemort.” Charlie
gasped audibly, but Harry began the story anyway, smiling a
bit at the other’s obvious surprise. “Hagrid showed me what
the task was going to be before it happened, so I did have some
idea of what I was going up against. Professor Moody, I mean,
Crouch told me to use my flying skills to get past the Horntail,
so I practiced Summoning Spells for a while after, working on
being able to summon my broom from the castle to the site of
the first task. Hermione helped me a lot.” Hearing the sound of
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her name, Hermione turned and began to look visibly interested

in the story.
“I was the last to go for the task, so I knew that the oth-
ers had already gotten their eggs. When I was called, I stepped
out into the field, brandished my wand, and summoned my
Firebolt. After that, it was a lot of fancy flying to try and get
the egg.”
“You nearly got singed a few times, if I remember
correctly,” Hermione interjected. “Right, Ron? Ron. Ron!”
Hermione jabbed him sharply in the stomach with her elbow.
“Ow. What?”
“Nothing,” Hermione replied curtly, looking hurt.
“From what I heard, you handled it very well. You know,
there is a great career in dragon studying, and I think that you
might have what it takes.” Charlie continued on for a while,
sharing that all dragon studiers become Senior Wizards at fifty,
instead of sixty in the Wizarding World, and that they get great
healthcare benefits. Harry began to look around, clearly bored
by the Charlie’s recitation of one hundred and one reasons to be
a dragon studier.
“Excuse me, Charlie,”Hermione interrupted, just as
bored as Harry. “Harry and I need to greet some other guests.”
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Harry looked around, wondering what Hermione was talking

about, but then saw the two wizards waving at him to come over
and talk to them.
“That’s fine. It was nice talking to you.”
“You know why they get great healthcare benefits, don’t
you, Harry?” Hermione whispered to him when they were well
out of ear shot. “It’s because most of them are seriously injured
or killed by dragons. Most can’t even work past fifty because
of their slow reflexes and severely damaged body parts. Charlie
looks as though he has been lucky so far, but I doubt his luck
will hold out forever.”
“Don’t worry, Hermione. I wasn’t actively considering
the job of dragon studier. I want to be an Auror, remember.”
They finally reached the table with the two guests that had
waved to them earlier. “Hello. I believe that you were waving
to us earlier.”
“Yes, we were, Harry Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you.
I am Harvey Dunninger, and this is my wife, Mildred And
who are you?’” He pointed to Hermione with his short, stubby
finger.”
“Hermione Granger. I am a friend of Harry’s from
school.”
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“Another Hogwarts student. How nice. I was in

Ravenclaw when I was at Hogwarts. That must have been nearly
fifty years ago.”
“Really?” Harry replied. \ He now wished that he hadn’t
come over here. It was always so boring when people reminisced
about their days at school, and about professors that he had
never met.
“I got my N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration, Charms,
Herbology, and Potions. I opened up a shop in Bristol, enchant-
ed household appliance store. You know the kind. Self-pouring
tea kettles, the Autosweep Broom and Dustpan—”
“You invented the Autosweep Broom and Dustpan? My
mum uses that all the time at home, well, she owns it. It uses
itself. She’s a Muggle and she has a bad back, so it is great to have
something that cleans the house automatically. She absolutely
loves it.” Hermione beamed at Mr. Dunninger.
“One day, You-Know-Who paid me a visit and threat-
ened to kill my family and to destroy my store if I would not
comply with his demands. He forced me to create a line of evil
enchanted objects, objects that would attack their owners and
wreak havoc on the minds of Muggles.” Hermione gasped.
“Don’t worry, Miss Granger. That was some time ago. Your
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mother’s Autosweep Broom and Dustpan will not attack her.”

“And now?”
“Now I work for the Ministry of Magic, one of Arthur’s
underlings. It really is fascinating work, and I do have some
experience in that area of magic. Why just last week there was a
horrible case of Flurgles that was inflicted upon the Muggles.”
“Flurgles?” Harry asked, mystified.
“Flurgles is a magical disease that is transmitted by a
magical object. It looks like the Measles, but it won’t go away on
its own. It happens when a charm has been incorrectly cast on
an object, so the object is only half-enchanted. Proudly, I can say
that no one has ever gotten Flurgles from my Autosweep Broom
and Dustpan.”
“Are you going to retire soon?”
“Retire? Never. Why would I quit when there is so much
work to be done?”
Hermione gave Harry a sideways glance. “It was lovely
speaking to you, but Harry and I must be getting back to our
table. Maybe we will run into you again sometime.”
Harry and Hermione strode away, once they were out of
earshot of the Mr. Dunninger, Harry commented, “He is a bit
odd, don’t you think.”
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“Very,” she replied as they sat down. “Oh look, steak.”

“Harry shot a glance over at Bill, who looked as though
he were cutting into a very pink steak. He was about to warn
him that he might get sick when he remembered, Bill was bitten
by Fenrir. At least he was not attacking humans with his teeth.
Steak was a much better option. Harry sat back and began to
devour his steak, going over the plan of what he was going to
do tonight.
41
Chapter Three
Flight in the Night
“Shh,” Hermione whispered to Ron. “Pack up your

things. Harry says we are leaving tonight.”
It was eleven o’clock, and the rest of the family had gone
to bed after a long day at the wedding. Harry decided that the
protection would only last a little while longer, so he might as
well begin the quest for the Horcruxes now. Besides, he wanted
to make a stop at Godric’s Hollow first, to see where it all
began. Maybe it would hold some clues as to where the other
Horcruxes were, but more important to Harry, it might shed a
little more light on his parents’ lives.
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NIGHT
Harry went into the hallway to see if anyone was coming.

He could not let Mrs. Weasley find out that they were sneaking
out, but lugging three large trunks and two owls downstairs and
out the door was not going to be easy. Well, two owl cages. Pig
and Hedwig had gone off to find food; they would come back
when they were finished. No one was lurking about, so Harry
returned to his room and began to pack once more.
Ever since Hermione had enchanted his trunk so that
it could fit three times as much, Harry had no trouble packing
his things. He could even fit the owl cage in his trunk if need
be, but he would prefer not to as it usually left a strong smell
on whatever was near. Unfortunately, the large size of his trunk
also meant that it was much harder to find things once it was
packed, so when Harry closed his trunk up a few minutes later,
he sincerely hoped that he had not forgotten anything.
“Ready,” Hermione called softly from his doorway, hav-
ing finished packing her trunk just a few minutes before.
“Bloody hell,” Ron replied. “How did she get it packed
up so fast?”
“She probably used magic. She is of age now, as are you,
Ron. Why didn’t you just use a spell?” Harry answered quietly.
“I was afraid that I would make too much noise.”
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“No matter. I’ll pack up your trunk too.”

“No, wait,” Ron begged in vain as a pair of pink and
white spotted underpants flew into his trunk. “You weren’t sup-
posed to see those.”
Hermione suppressed a giggle. “C’mon, Harry, Ron.
Let’s go downstairs.”
All three silently cast Wingardium Leviosa and their
trunks floated before them. They proceeded to walk towards the
stairway, Ron carrying his birdcage in his other hand. As they
reached the top stair, Harry whispered, “I forgot my invisibility
cloak. I’ll need to go back and get it.”
“Right,” Hermione replied anxiously. “Hurry.”
Harry quietly laid his trunk to rest on the floor, and
carefully walked back to the bedroom, being sure not to step on
the loose floorboard in front of Ginny’s room. When he reached
his room, he heard a cry of “oh no you don’t” from downstairs.
Realizing that Mrs. Weasley had just caught Ron and Hermione
in the act of escaping, Harry donned his invisibility cloak and
sped to the stop of the stairwell.
“There will be no hanky-panky in this house,” Mrs.
Weasley whispered angrily. She did not want to wake the others
either, but for a different reason: Ron’s actions with Hermione
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NIGHT
should not become a family affair.

From his spot on the stairwell, Harry saw Ron and
Hermione blush. Their trunks were right behind them. “B-b-
but, Mrs. Weasley, we weren’t,” Hermione began.
“But nothing. I was once your age, you know.”
“Really, Mum. We weren’t going to fool around or any-
thing. Hermione just wanted—”
“I know what she wanted, and I know what you wanted
yourself, young man.”
“Really, we weren’t going to do anything.” Ron shifted
his right foot nervously, and stepped on Hermione’s toe.
“Ow,” Hermione fell backward into Ron and gripped
him tightly, fearing that she might tumble down the stairs. They
both blushed even more fiercely, and determinedly looked away
from each other.
“See. I know what you are up to. Back to bed right now,
you two. Right now. Get back to—”
Petrificus Totalus.
Mrs. Weasley began to fall backwards, her entire body
rigid.
“Mum, Mum. Are you all right?” Ron cried.
Arresto Momentum.
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Just as she was about to hit the floor, her body slowed to
a halt. She hit the floorboards lightly, making nearly no noise as
she landed. Ron rushed over to his mother. “Hermione, some-
thing has happened to my mum.”
“Ron, keep it down. I’m hearing a commotion from
upstairs, and, Harry, would you take your cloak off now?”
“Sure thing, Hermione,” Harry replied cheerfully.
“You, you, did this to my mother?”
“Yes, we didn’t want her to stop us from leaving, did
we?”
“No, but you attacked her How could you attack my
mother?” Ron’s voice was becoming steadily louder.
“Ron, keep it down,” Hermione whispered. They heard
a creak coming from upstairs. “Your mother is going to be all
right. We’ll leave a note so that they can perform the proper
countercurses. It will be easy.”
“Okay. But, you still shouldn’t have attacked my
mum.”
“Sorry about that. It was the only way.” Harry looked at
Ron gravely, sincerely sorry for what he had had to do.
Ron replied brightly, “It was a brilliant piece of magic,
though. Absolutely brilliant. What was that, a nonverbal
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spell?”
“Two, actually,” Hermione replied.
“Yes. How did you know?” Harry looked mystified.
“Simple.” The creaking upstairs was getting louder. “I’ll
tell you when we get outside. We need to leave now.” Hermione
moved towards her trunk, levitated it, and maneuvered it out-
side the front door. “C’mon. Someone’s coming.” Ron kissed
his mother on the forehead, and he and Harry left the house.
When they were almost to the line of trees, they sat down to
rest.
“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed suddenly. “We forgot to
leave a note. They’ll be worried sick about us.”
“I’m on it,” Harry answered, throwing on his invisibility
cloak. He sprinted back to the house, and looked through the
window. Ginny and Mr. Weasley were already downstairs, and
Charlie was not far behind. Seeing that the situation was hope-
less, Harry carefully walked back to Hermione, trying not to
alert the Weasleys to any noise.
“Well, did you leave the note?” Ron asked anxiously.
“I couldn’t. Your family was already downstairs. “C’mon,
they’ll revive her in a few seconds and your brothers will start
searching for us. If I remember correctly, it is a long way to that
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hilltop where the old boot was, and I bet it will even take longer
in the dark.”
“Why are we going there?” Ron asked.
“Because,” Hermione replied. “Just before he goes to
bed, your father puts a ban on apparition around the house.
There is no way we could apparate into or out of the area until
we are well past the woods. The woods are safe, right? There are
no dangerous animals in it.”
“Well, there are some Mokes in the area, but I am sure
you can handle them just fine. They usually sleep at night,
unless they are awakened by a bright light or touch. What might
be more of a problem are the Doxies. Charlie got a nasty bite
from one once when he was little, and he was in the hospital for
a week. We’ll have to be careful about those.”
“Anything else we should know about, Ron?”
“I don’t think so. Let’s go. Lumos.” The tip of his wand
gave off a small light. He started to drag his trunk into the
woods.
“Wait. What’s that sound?” Harry grabbed Ron’s shoul-
der. “Do you hear it?”
“It’s just an owl,” Ron replied impatiently. “Let’s go.”
Hermione looked up. “It’s holding a rather large letter,
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NIGHT
but it is too big to be Pig, and I don’t think that it looks any-
thing like Hedwig.”
“The Ministry. They must have tightened security at
this house, knowing that I was going to be here. A spell this late
at night and with Arthur in a good job now, it’s no wonder that
the Ministry is worried. Let’s go, we don’t want to get spotted.”
Harry was about to levitate his trunk, but Hermione stopped
him.
“We’ve got to drag the trunks now. If we use magic,
the Ministry will be able to pinpoint our position and will find
us.” With that, all three of them entered the woods slowly, their
trunks much more of a burden on the ground than in the air. “I
remember when it was easier to actually pull on the trunk than
to use magic.”
“When was that?” Ron replied jokingly. “Your first day
at Hogwarts? I seem to remember that you had pretty much
mastered Wingardium Leviosa by your second day of school.”
“Third, actually,” Hermione replied with a broad grin.
“We didn’t have Charms until the second day of lessons
They heard a crunch of twigs behind them. “Shh. Ron,
Hermione, stay low. I’ll check if someone is coming after us.”
As he turned around to see what it could be, a large, scaly lizard
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came into view. “Hermione, it’s a Moke. What spell should I

use?”
“Use your Patronus. It’ll scare him away.”
“I can’t. There is no way that I could do it nonverbally.
Besides, what if someone saw it?”
“All right, use Stupefy, but be careful where you hit it. If
you hit its nose, it will only make it madder.”
Stupefy.
The Moke stopped moving. “Okay, that seemed to
work,” said Harry hesitantly. “Let’s keep going. There better
not be more of them.”
The trio kept walking, stopping every few minutes to
give themselves a rest. The trunks were becoming awfully heavy
in their arms, and they could see no end to the woods in sight.
The crunches of twigs were much more frequent now. The hunt
was on, and their only hope of escaping was to get out of the
woods and to apparate to Godric’s Hollow. No one would look
for them there.
Harry urged them to move faster, and he began to speed
through the woods with more vigor. There was still no end in
sight. “Are we going the right way?”
“I don’t know. Use Point Me,” Hermione replied.
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NIGHT
“We should be going northeast,” Ron added helpfully.

Point Me. The wand twitched in Harry’s hand, spun
and stopped pointing straight out in front of him. “It looks like
we are going the right way. Maybe a bit too north, but we can
always go east once we get out. I’ll check every once in a while,
make sure we’re going the right way.”
“Good plan. Let’s continue then. Shall we?” Ron ges-
tured forward with his right hand and proceeded up the hill in
front of them. “Hermione, how did you know that Harry used
two spells? You never did say.”
“That was easy. The first spell that was cast was the
Full-Body Bind, which I cast on Neville in our first year. But
I remembered that Neville fell to the ground quickly, and with
a thud, so it was obvious that Harry must have used a second
spell, probably Arresto Momentum. That would have effectively
slowed down your mother’s fall. Am I right, Harry?”
“Yes, entirely. I think we should press on. It can’t be far
now.”
“It’d better not be,” replied Ron. “I’m sick and tired of
walking. We really need to get some sleep.”
“Not till we’re out of the woods. Once we apparate out
of here, we’ll be able to have a nice, long rest.”
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“Harry, stand still. Don’t move.” Hermione motioned to

Ron to move away from Harry. “There are three Doxies behind
you. When I tell you, fall to the ground and we’ll Stupefy the
Doxies.” She raised her wand and yelled, “Now.”
Harry dove to the ground, but the Doxies, surprised
by his sudden movement, remained still. “Stupefy,” Ron yelled,
the Doxy nearest to him hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Hermione silently quelled the other two Doxies in the process.
“Ron, you shouldn’t have shouted. Now they’ll know
exactly where we are.”
“I think Ron did the right thing, Hermione. If I’d got
myself stung by the Doxy, we’d be holed up at the house for
weeks. Besides, someone would have seen the red blasts anyway.
We’ll just have to move a bit quicker, that’s all.”
“I don’t know if I can, Harry. My trunk is so heavy.”
“I’ll pull it for a while. Just hold my owl cage for me,
will you?” Ron offered
“Thanks, Ron.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I
owe you one.”
Ron blushed. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled and
started trudging along.
“We’re almost there,” Harry said, breathing heavily. “I
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NIGHT
see the clearing up ahead.”

“So do I.” Harry heard a girl’s voice from behind a
hedge.
Harry whipped around. “Ginny. What are you doing
here?”
“I’m going with you.” She walked up to him. “Once I
saw the red flashes of light coming from this area, I knew that
you were here.”
“You can’t come—did you tell anyone?” Harry asked
anxiously.
“No, of course not. But I’m coming, too. I want to help
you.”
“You can’t. It’s too dangerous, Ginny.”
“I’m going. You’ll need my help, Harry.”
“Ron, talk some sense into her. Tell her to stay.”
“Ginny, you need to go back to Hogwarts. You must.
It’s too dangerous for you.”
“And for you, but you’re going, Ron. Why can’t I?”
“You just can’t. Maybe you can help later. Maybe. But
we need you to stay here, where you will be safe. Once the
summer’s over, you can go to Hogwarts, and maybe you will
learn something that will help us. We will keep in touch. I
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promise.” Ron looked tearfully at his sister, sorrier than ever to

have to leave her.
“You still have a part to play in this battle, Ginny, but
now is not your time. We will see you again soon, I’m sure.”
Hermione grabbed her on the shoulder. “For now, cover for
us. Make up a story. Anything will do, so long as your mother
and father are not worried. Try to keep the Ministry off our
backs.” She wiped away a tear on Ginny’s cheek. “You have an
important role to play, and I think that it would be a great help
to have you home.”
“All right, I’ll do it. But I would like reports of what you
are doing, where you are going, and the like.”
“Ginny, you know we can’t promise you that. The
Ministry will try to intercept the letters, and we would be caught
for sure.” Hermione looked at the ground in pain, wishing she
could help her friend more.
“Then tell me where you are going now.”
“What if they—” Hermione began
“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry replied gravely. “To see where
it all began.”
“That is where You-Know-Who killed your parents?”
“Yes, we are going to see the place where Voldemort
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NIGHT
killed my parents. I’m sorry, Ginny, but I’m really going to have
to say good-bye.”
Ginny walked forward and gave Harry a hard kiss on the
mouth, leaving her tears on his cheek. “I love you, Harry Potter.
I always have.”
“Me too.” Harry suddenly felt a great relief in his
chest.
Ginny turned her back and began to walk back into the
woods. Her breath was ragged, and every so often, they heard
a loud sob. When they could no longer hear her, Harry turned
to Ron and Hermione. “Let’s go.” He pulled at his trunk once
more, and started walking towards the clearing.
“I’m well rested. I’ll take my own trunk now, Ron.”
“Oh, right.” He put it down and took his owl cage from
her. “Let’s go then. We don’t want to be caught by anyone
else.”
After a few more minutes of walking, they were finally
out of the woods and into the clearing. “Let’s take a breather.”
Hermione sat down on her trunk, clearly exhausted by the
night’s events. “What time is it anyway?”
Ron looked at his watch. “Two o’clock in the morning.
We’ve been walking for nearly two hours. It seemed a lot shorter
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to me.”
“Well maybe it was the Moke attack, or the trio of
Doxies that was trying to kill us. That made the trip exciting,
didn’t it?” Harry answered grimly. “I’d say we’re lucky to be in
one piece.”
“Harry, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them does say
that competent wizards should be able to handle those creatures,
and I’d say that we are more than competent,” Hermione replied
confidently. “I mean, a troll is a class four creature, and you
handled that perfectly our first year.”
“By a stroke of dumb luck and a bit of quick action on
Ron’s part,” Harry chuckled.
Ron blushed at the recognition of his heroism. “Well,
let’s get going then. We haven’t got all day.”
“Right, we’ll apparate on the count of three. One…
two…th—” Harry began.
“Wait. You can’t apparate. You haven’t passed your test
yet. What if one of you splinches? I have no idea how to piece
you back together, and the Ministry will be all over us in sec-
onds.”
“Hermione, I’ve apparated fine before. How do you
think I got to Hogwarts the night that Dumbledore…died? I’ll
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NIGHT
be fine.”
“I know you will, but I am still worried that something
might happen. I think that we are going to have to apparate a
different way.”
“Just because you passed your apparition test and I lost
half an eyebrow doesn’t mean that we all can’t apparate sepa-
rately, Hermione,” Ron said hotly. “We should apparate—”
“Hermione’s right, Ron. We can’t apparate separately,
but we can use Side-Along apparition.”
Ron took Hermione’s hand in one hand, and held his
trunk in the other. Since Hermione’s other hand was occupied
with her trunk, Harry grabbed onto her arm, and held his trunk
with his other hand. Ron had placed one finger through the top
of his owl cage, hoping that it would be enough to get the owl
to apparate with them. All together, they looked like a big heap
of junk, odd corners sticking out all over the place. “Since you
both can apparate, I will just be a guide. I’m not sure I would
be able to apparate with this much stuff anyway. It would take
too much determination.”
“On the count of three we are going to go. One…two...”
Hermione felt Ron squeeze her hand tightly. She squeezed back,
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trying to reassure him. “Three.”

Crack.
All three of them landed in a large front lawn of an old
house, their belongings completely intact. So this was Godric’s
Hollow.
58
Chapter Four
Godric’s Hollow
At first glance, the house at Godric’s Hollow was com-

pletely unremarkable: a two-story house with a white front door
that had two windows on each side of it. In fact, it would have
looked just like any other house in the vicinity, if there had been
any. The house was atop a large hill, much like the Riddle House
in Little Hangleton that Harry had visited in his dreams.
There was no Frank Bryce to keep the house in shape
though, and it had fallen under disrepair these past seventeen
years. On closer inspection, one would see that the left wing of
the house had been completely blown away; only the structural
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frame of that wing was left, and all the contents seemed to have
been destroyed. At the bottom of the hill, on three sides of the
house, was a marsh that looked to be a haven for Hinkypunks.
Every so often, bright lights would flicker around the base of the
hill, sending chills up Ron’s spine.
“Well, let’s have a look then.” Harry started towards the
house slowly, mindful of what could lay there in wait: death,
sorrow, and the truth of that night that had changed his life
forever.
Hermione began to walk after him, reaching into her
robes and gripping her wand slowly. She looked back at Ron and
told him to hurry up.
“I’m fine here, thanks. Someone needs to look after
our belongings.” Ron gestured to the numerous trunks next to
where he was standing. With a flick of Hermione’s wand, the
belongings were no longer visible. “You destroyed our things?
How could you?”
“I merely camouflaged them, Ron. If you look closely
enough, you can still see them.”
“But that means that someone else can see them too.”
“But they won’t be looking. C’mon. Harry is already so
far ahead.” Ron and Hermione ran up the hill after him. “Wait
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for us,” she called after him. “Don’t enter the house alone.”
“Hermione, I’m not sure I can go through with this.
This is where Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me.
Do I really want to relive that part of my past?”
“You must,” she replied. “It could help you stop He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and for that, it is worthwhile. Let’s
have a look.”
Harry moved to the front door, and slowly turned the
doorknob. The door creaked open, and for the first time, Harry
was able to see what was inside. The room was caked with dust.
It covered the chairs, the table, the bookshelves, the rug, the
fireplace. Every nook and cranny was covered in dust. Seventeen
years of dust. The three stepped into room, and began to explore
the contents. Harry looked at the table in the center of the room
and strode towards it. He took a deep breath, and blew the dust
of the table.
Once the dust had cleared away, Harry saw a newspaper,
dated on the day of his parents’ deaths. He swept the dust of the
chair nearby, and sat down to scan the contents of the articles.
On the third page, one article jumped out at him.
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Inferi Suspected in Burning of the Burke

House
Just two weeks ago, Burke of Borgin

and Burkes was found dead in his
home, or rather, what remained of
his home. Burke’s store in Knockturn
Alley was famous for trading in magi-
cal artifacts of great power, usually
in the Dark Arts. The Ministry sus-
pects the use of Inferi because He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his
Death Eaters were engaged in a battle
with Aurors at the time. The Minister
assures us that the You-Know-Who
situation will soon be under control.
After much investigation of the house,
reports of missing magical objects are
unconfirmed, but it is believed that
the attackers may have made off with
a Fainting Feather, a raven feather that
when waved under the nose causes the
person to faint. The faint may last for
days, and if not treated correctly, could
result in a permanent coma. Others
believe that this feather had burned
up in the fire, but there is no question
that Burke was in possession of it. A
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team of Aurors have been searching

the house for the past few weeks, but
it appears that nothing else was taken.
Mr. Burke has no family, so that shop
will be in the sole possession of Mr.
Borgin until he finds a suitable part-
ner. I cannot say that we will remem-
ber Mr. Burke fondly, but he will be
remembered as another casualty dur-
ing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s
reign of terror.
“Ron, Hermione, come look at this.” Hermione closed

the book that she had pulled off of the bookshelf, and she and
Ron walked towards him. “Read this article, and tell me what
you think is odd about it.”
Hermione and Ron read down the page, and as usual,
Hermione was the first one to make a statement. “The article
is wrong,” she proclaimed proudly. “What kind of fool would
honestly believe that Inferi could burn down a house, and
besides, since when has the Ministry been any good at tracking
You-Know-Who?”
“Exactly, Hermione. Inferi can’t burn down a house.
The creatures are afraid of fire. Dumbledore told me, the night
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he died, to use fire to battle the Inferi that were going to kill us.
I forgot to use fire out of fear, but I now remember his warning
that Inferi flee from both light and heat.”
“Was that in Snape’s lessons? All I seem to remember is
that Inferi are solid, and ghosts are not.” Ron looked completely
puzzled.
“No,” Hermione replied. Ron’s face lit up. “I read it in
Magik Most Evile when I was doing research about Horcruxes.”
“Let’s keep looking around the house. Maybe there
will be something of interest in the upstairs.” Harry proceeded
up the long staircase to the second floor, beckoning Ron and
Hermione to follow.
“Ron, could you give me a hand with this?” Harry
pointed to the door of a bedroom which had fallen sideways,
blocking entry to the room. Ron moved towards the door. “On
the count of three, we’ll lift it.”
“One…two…”
“Reducto!” Hermione shouted. There was a loud crack as
the door blew apart. “Just use magic. No one is going to suspect
us of being here anyway, Harry.” She walked past both of them
into the small room.
“My arm,” Ron cried. “My arm. Hermione, you’ve
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destroyed my arm.” He tried to lift it up but could not.

She bent down close to him to examine it. “You’ve got
a bad splinter in there. It goes very deep, maybe even all the
way through the muscle. I’ll have to pull it out.” To Harry, she
whispered, “Hold him down. This might hurt.”
“Brilliant,” Harry spat out in disgust. “We haven’t done
anything dangerous and already Ron’s injured.”
Hermione put her hand on the splinter and said, “Are
you ready, Ron? It’s coming out.” She pulled hard, and Ron
writhed in an anguished wail. The only thing preventing him
from jerking up in pain were Harry’s arms. The blood started to
flow out in trickles, then in a great gush.
“Episkey,” Harry cried in vain. The blood would not
stop flowing. “Episkey!”
“Together, Harry. One…two…three.”
“Episkey!” Their combined spell stopped the flow, but
Ron had already lost a lot of blood.
“Harry, I think we are going to have to let Ron rest up
here for a bit. You keep exploring. I’ll sit with him until he is
feeling better.” She moved behind Ron and laid his head into
her lap. “Don’t worry, Ron,” she whispered. “The worst is now
over.”
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Harry looked around the room before standing up.

There was not much: just a crib and a rocking chair. The walls
were lined with fairy wallpaper, and the fairies flew around the
perimeter of the room, occasionally making soft sounds to one
another. So this is where he lived when he was a baby, he thought
to himself. It was nice, and it seemed untouched except for the
damaged door. But this is where it all happened. His father and
mother were both murdered in this room, right before his eyes.
No, this room was not untouched; it was touched by death.
Harry stormed out of the room angrily and barged into
the room next door. It was his parent’s room, a little dusty, but
untouched by the hands of evil. Harry walked over to the dresser
near the bed and nearly fainted in the excitement. He snatched
up every photograph of his parents on the dresser and tucked
them carefully into his robes.
“How’s Ron doing?” he asked as he walked out of the
room.
“He seems to be doing better, but I really can’t tell.
The fairies have started singing lullabies when they saw him
lying down. He’s fallen asleep.” Hermione stroked Ron’s head
absently.
“I’ve found some photos of my parents in their bed-
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room, so I’d say that the trip was a success. I just want to have
a look at the kitchen. Maybe there is more stuff to take that I
could remember them by. Do you think that you could get Ron
up? I would like to leave the house as soon as I get out of the
kitchen.”
“I’ll try. Would you like us to come with you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Just wait in the living
room, will you?’
“All right. Holler if you need anything.”
Harry walked downstairs, taking another careful look at
his surroundings. Perhaps he could discover more about his past
if he kept his eyes open. But it was so late, and he was so tired.
Well, if he inspected the kitchen he could go back to Number
12 Grimmauld Place and get some much needed rest. He strode
through the doorway of the kitchen with newfound determina-
tion. As he made his first step towards the table, the floor fell
out from under him with an earth shattering crack, and he fell
underground.
“Hermione,” he called. There was no answer. “Hermione!”
Harry assumed that Ron was still asleep upstairs. In the mean-
time, he should inspect his surroundings. Harry looked down at
the stone floor, thankful that his hard fall did not break any of
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✭ ✭
his bones. There was no Madame Pomfrey to heal himself now.

Lumos. His wand lit up quickly, illuminating the previously dark
room. Harry could make out a large bookcase at the other end
of the basement. He turned around, and saw a set of stairs that
led up to the ground floor.
Knowing that the stairs would be there when he got
back, he walked towards the lone bookcase. “Harry!” Hermione
called from upstairs. “I can’t see you from the living room.
Where are you?”
“I’m in the basement,” he called back. “Is Ron all
right?”
“I’m fine, Harry,” Ron shouted. “Hermione fixed me up
just fine. Do you want us to come down?”
“Yeah, but see if you can find the stairway. I think it
might be under the table, but I’m not sure.”
“You mean like a trap door, like with Fluffy, right?” Ron
asked uncertainly.
“Exactly, but there is no Devil’s Snare at the bottom.
There’s just some stone. Be careful when you walk into the
kitchen. You can see where the floor caved in, can’t you?”
“Bundimuns,” Hermione replied. “This house won’t be
stable for much longer.” Harry heard a scratching sound from
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upstairs and the creak of the trapdoor opening. “Ron and I are
coming down now.”
“Okay. I found a bookcase down here. Hermione, that’s
your area of expertise. Have a look at the books. Maybe you can
find something useful.”
The three of them walked towards the bookshelf, but
Ron stopped them midway, a sudden gasp emanating from his
throat. “Ron. Are you all right?” Hermione grabbed him, anx-
iously checking on his wound.
“I’m fine, Hermione. Just look on top of the bookshelf.
Right there.” He pointed. “Do you see that?”
“It is a—,” Hermione began.
“Bust of a lion,” Harry finished for her. “Ron, I think
you may have found a Horcrux.”
Hermione looked at the bust for a second. “But, Harry,
it can’t be a Horcrux.”
“Why not? It fits Dumbledore’s ideas perfectly. He said
that it needed to be something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s.
It is also sitting in the basement, which is only accessible by a
hidden trap door—”
“Or Bundimun infestation,” Ron added.
“Or Bundimun infestation,” Harry repeated. “That
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means that it’s an item of value. Probably, Voldemort must have

turned the bust into a Horcrux.”
“No,” Hermione replied. “Not necessarily. Your theory
is completely viable and would have been correct had You-
Know-Who entered the basement. I sense no strong magics in
the area. The magic of a Horcrux is extremely powerful, so it
should be clear that whether or not the bust is a Horcrux by feel.
Just to be safe.” She grabbed the Horcrux. “Specialis Revealo.
See, nothing to worry about. It is not a Horcrux.
“I’m not even sure that You-Know-Who knew that the
artifact was in the basement,” Hermione continued. “Although
I do not doubt that he planned to turn that bust into the
final Horcrux. I’m sure that he would have preferred to use
Gryffindor’s sword, but since that was unavailable, the bust of
the lion would have had to do. That Horcrux was going to be
made by your death, but since you did not die and his powers
rebounded on himself, as we all know, it is clear that making this
bust the sixth Horcrux was impossible.
“Instead, I think that once he regained his powers, he
made the sixth Horcrux Nagini, his snake.”
“Well, I agree,” said Ron. “It makes sense to me. Let’s
just grab the books and head on out of this house. Where to
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next, Harry? We’ll need somewhere to spend the night.”

“Since the Order has pretty much disbanded after
Dumbledore’s death, I propose that we use Harry’s property at
Grimmauld Place.”
“Just what I was thinking. Let’s head—.” There was a
loud crack from upstairs, and the ceiling above them began to
cave in.
“The Bunidmuns have almost eaten through the entire
house. We’ll have to make a run for it, or risk being smothered
by all of the debris.” Hermione looked worried, and frantically
began to move towards the stairwell that led to the upstairs
kitchen.
“Or,” Harry answered, grabbing her arm. “We can go
out the basement door behind the bookcase. I thought I felt a
draft in here, so I checked the bookcase. Ron, help me move
it.”
“Reducto!” Hermione yelled. The bookcase promptly
shattered into what seemed to be a million pieces and flew every
which way. This time, the stray shards did not injure any of the
three, and they rushed out the door of the basement. Hermione
was the first out of the house. “Brilliant!” she exclaimed. “A
secret exit that leads to the other side of the hill.”
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“Most families have some sort of exit in case of a Death

Eater attack. My house has one in the basement as well, but it
lets you out in the middle of the woods and the tunnel is a half-
mile long,” Ron added, stepping outdoors. Behind him, Harry
carefully closed the door and covered it with grass.
“We’ll have to walk around the base of the hill to get
back to our things, so be careful not to fall into the swamp.”
Harry looked down at the swamp and saw the lights of the
Hinkypunks continue to flicker. “Oh, yeah. Don’t follow the
lights.” He strode off around the place of the hill, leaving Ron
and Hermione to move at their own pace. Ron’s arm was still in
pain from his earlier injury, and he needed to rest often. Harry
knew that Hermione would see to it, but he was worried that
no one was watching their things. For all he knew, Mundungus
Fletcher, having finished ransacking Sirius’s house, had decided
that it was time to go after Harry’s parents’ belongings.
Angrily, Harry looked up at his house, and saw that
there was almost nothing left anyway. The roof had caved in,
smashing the top floor, and the house sagged horribly into the
ground. There were no supports left for it to stand on, and it
would not be long before most of the house was inside of the
basement. No one was going to ever find that bust of the lion
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now. Even if they did, Harry doubted that it would remain

unscathed. Bitterly, he realized that it was a good thing that he
had come now, or there would have been no Godric’s Hollow
left by the time he got there.
He finally reached their belongings, found his trunk and
took a seat. He was sure that Ron and Hermione would not be
long now, and he stared expectantly down the road. After this,
they would have to return to Number 12 Grimmauld Place
and camp there for a while. In the meantime, he would have
to learn more about Horcruxes and make periodic trips into
Diagon Alley. He guessed that Hermione would need to learn
to cook because there was no Mrs. Weasley to make meals for
them, and besides, she needed to learn sometime. Certainly she
was not expecting Ron to become the household chef. It dawned
on Harry that he thought of Ron and Hermione as a couple, a
couple that could marry if they survived the ordeal that was put
before them.
A few minutes later, his friends still had not rounded the
bend. Harry stood up and walked back towards the secret door
that he, Ron and Hermione had come from. Just a minute into
the walk, he saw what was holding them up. They were not far
from the trunks, but Ron was collapsed in a heap on the ground.
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“Hermione,” Harry called. “Is Ron all right?”

“He’s ill,” she replied, a worried frown spreading across
her face. Harry ran towards her.
“Do you know what it wrong?” he asked.
“I think that the Bundimuns’ acid was in the splinter
that entered Ron’s arm. It must have infected the muscle, and
his arm is deteriorating from the inside.”
“What do we do?
“We have to get him back to Grimmauld Place. Harry,
you can apparate, right?” Harry nodded. “Hold Ron, and I’ll
apparate with the luggage. That’s the only choice we’ve got.
Sirius has got to have some books on magical healing. We’ll get
whatever we need in Diagon Alley.”
“Okay, I’ll apparate right now. The luggage is not far.
I’m the Secret Keeper, so the location is Number 12 Grimmauld
Place. You already know, but we don’t want there to be any
problems. I’m not quite sure how the whole Secret Keeper
position works yet.” With a loud boom, Harry was gone. After
a few trips, Hermione managed to bring all the luggage to the
house, and she rushed upstairs to see if there were any books on
healing remedies.
Hermione began to frantically flip through books.
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Rainburg’s Remedies for Rashes only discussed Billywig allergies

and other rashes, Fendton’s Bumps and Bruises did not deal with
creature-induced sicknesses at all and Bayne’s Pain and Plaster
only gave information about setting broken bones, using Skele-
grow and other bone-related remedies. Hermione knew that
these books were hopeless, but she kept trying, thinking that
maybe something would come up.
“Harry, you’d better get him a glass of water,” she
ordered in fear. “He’ll need to have a lot of bodily fluids until I
can find a remedy.” Harry poured a glass of water down Ron’s
throat and forced him to swallow. Then he poured another, and
another, and another.
Ron sputtered softly, “I’ve got enough water, thanks.
I’m not thirsty anymore.” Then he fell back asleep.
“Harry, we’ve solved it!” Hermione cried out in relief.
Keep giving Ron more water. If we’re lucky that’ll be enough to
save him. The water is going to dilute the Bundimun acid, and
diluted Bundimun acid is just a simple household cleaner. He’s
going to be all right. He’s going to be all right.” Hermione was
on the verge of tears. “Harry, can you carry Ron to bed?” Harry
nodded and carried Ron to the guest bedroom next to the living
room, and placed him down softly.
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“I think we should stay up for a while. You know, keep

giving him water. Then we can sleep in shifts until he feels bet-
ter,” Harry suggested.
“Good idea. Thank goodness he is safe. I’m glad you
gave him so much water.”
Harry Potter and his friends were not the only ones to
have a stressful night, however. Not far away from 12 Grim-
mauld Place, the Weasleys were still searching the grounds for
any sign of Harry, Ron or Hermione. The Ministry of Magic
was scouring the countryside from the Weasleys’ home to
Diagon Alley in an effort to find the Chosen One. And in a
forest near Hogwarts, a meeting occurred between a frightened
student and his angry teacher.
76
Chapter Five
Apparent Lack of Progress
A lone figure stood in the forest awaiting a meeting

with his partner. He was late, but that was not unheard of.
These tasks might take longer than expected. Being a Death
Eater was such a nasty business. One never knew if he would
come home from work that day. There was always the chance
of death, capture, or failure. In many ways, it was better to die
or be captured than eluded. If you die in the fight or are sent to
Azkaban, at least the Dark Lord will not kill you in his cruel,
tortuous ways.
That was not unheard of either. It was a very effective
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method of weeding out the weak and the unworthy Death

Eaters, usually the newcomers, who perhaps worked for the
Dark Lord just barely a week before losing their lives in pain.
First, the Dark Lord broke the doomed one’s wand. Then he
used the Cruciatus Curse until he was writhing in pain. This
part never took very long. Finally, he would use the Killing
Curse to finish him off. That was why Azkaban was preferable
to failure. There were no more Dementors in Azkaban, and no
Dark Lord either.
The lone Death Eater began to worry. Where was that
boy? He should be here by now. Had he already been killed?
His mother would be heartbroken. Of course, he doubted that
she would alive much longer anyway. The Dark Lord was get-
ting restless with this apparent lack of progress. Should the boy
have failed, I will be sent in to finish the job. He thought about
the fact that this death would make three deaths in three days,
and numerous more before that. If he notched his belt for each
person he killed, there would be no belt left. So he didn’t, and
his pants stayed up just fine.
He supposed that you could get the item without hav-
ing to kill the owner, but that was just not the way that this
particular Death Eater did it. The Death Eater chosen for this
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mission was a strange one, though. He preferred not to kill oth-

ers, but to get what he needed and leave. It was effective, but it
took longer than the usual task. It was always cheaper and easier
to steal the item after killing the person than to barter with him
for it at wand-point.
And then, there was always the chance that you would
be recognized. There was a mask, but one never knew if they
might recognize you from a shop or realize from the numerous
Wanted Images in the Daily Prophet. The lone Death Eater’s
death was valued at 3,000 galleons, quite a sum. The one he
was waiting for was only valued at 700 galleons, but that was
because he tried not to kill the others. Besides, he was just a boy.
Actually, he was of age now, but he still seemed to be just a boy.
The boy was late, and it was starting to worry the Lone One.
There is lateness, and there is lateness. The boy was too often
the latter. He always returned from his jobs later than planned,
but never this late. This was his latest arrival ever, and he still
hadn’t arrived.
Crack.
“Sorry, I am so late,” the boy began nervously. “I got the
job done. I negotiated my way to obtaining the item. It wasn’t
too hard. No deaths, no mess. Not a problem. I think the Dark
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Lord will be pleased.”

“Not too pleased. He wanted the death of the store
owner as well. Borgin knows too much about the Dark Lord’s
past. He’s dangerous, and you didn’t get the job done.” The lone
figure looked angry.
“But I got the artifact, so everything should be ready.
Listen, it always works out in the end. I’ve completed the past
few tasks without harming anyone, and we’ve still collected
many dark artifacts. Last week I was able to get a cursed neclace
from a bloke in Knockturn Alley. Could have cost me twenty
galleons, but I stole it. He’s still alive, and we can get more dark
items from him later. Killing is not always the best way to go
about things.”
“It is in this case. The Dark Lord wants Borgin dead.
Am I going to have to do it myself then, or can you handle it?
You never did complete your first task, if you remember. I had
to step in and finish it for you. Do you have the heart of a killer,
or is the Dark Lord going to have to pound one into you?”
“I am most certainly a killer, but I prefer to kill only
when necessary, and in these tasks, killing has not been neces-
sary,” he replied with less conviction than he had wanted to
show. He had never really been a killer. Joining the Death Eaters
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had almost been a game at the time, a game that he had won
simply by perseverance, luck, and the help of his fellow Death
Eaters. Now that his first task was over, his other tasks were not
nearly as exciting. Acquiring dark artifacts each day had become
as mundane as brushing his teeth, but far more dangerous. He
wanted out, but once you were a Death Eater, there was no way
to quit.
“I repeat, Draco. Are you going to kill Borgin yourself,
or am I going to have to do it for you? The Dark Lord wants
it done, and if you are not going to do it, I will. He is not a
patient man. Don’t test him.”
“Don’t worry, Severus—”
“Professor Snape, Draco. Professor Snape.”
“Why? We are equals now, and besides, you are not a
professor anymore.”
“But I am still your teacher. Professor Snape, Draco. Say
it.”
“Okay, Professor Snape, it will be done. I will kill
Borgin, but I need more time. Give me more time and the deed
is done.”
“No more time, Draco. The Dark Lord does not have
patience for it.”
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“I need more time. Give me a week. I have some other

small matters to take care of, and besides, Borgin will still be
on guard from my last visit. He’ll forget what happened in a
week,and then, I’ll strike.” He moved his hand inside the pocket
of his robes and gripped his wand tightly. “Please, Professor
Snape, let me have more time.”
“I will speak to the Dark Lord about this tonight. Spend
the night at your house, and meet me back here tomorrow at
noon. Don’t be late. The Dark Lord does not like to be kept
waiting; neither do I. Good night, Draco. Sleep well.” More
than a hint of malice permeated Snape’s voice.
Crack.
Snape disappeared into the night and left Draco alone
in the forest.
Crack.
Draco opened the front door to his house, checked on
his mother, who was already asleep, and went to bed. He was
not sure of how the day’s events would play out, but one thing
was for sure, the Dark Lord was not pleased. “Well, father, wher-
ever you are,” he whispered. “I’m doing this for you.”
* * *
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PROGRESS
Draco woke up with a start. His dream was so real. The

events of last night were real enough; the meeting with Professor
Snape and the reminder that Borgin must die. It was afterwards,
though, that worried him, for the scene continued while Draco
slept. In his dream, the Dark Lord threatened to kill Draco’s
father and mother unless he dealt with Borgin immediately. He
wondered if it actually was a dream, or whether it was really
true. It was said that the Dark Lord was such an accomplished
Legilimens that he could put thoughts into the minds of other
people. Perhaps he had relayed the entire conversation with
Snape into his mind, but why would the Dark Lord give fair
warning to Draco? Well, he would find out soon enough. He
would meet with Snape in just a few hours, and maybe, just
maybe, everything would be all right.
He pulled himself tiredly out of bed and went downstairs
to breakfast. “Good morning, Mother,” he said pleasantly. He
found it necessary to be extremely polite to his mother nowthat
his father was who-knows-where. After his recent escape from
Azkaban with the help of Bellatrix Lestrange, he mysteriously
vanished. Bellatrix claimed that she never had helped Lucius
escape and that the news stories were a lie. Others claimed that
the Dark Lord had killed Lucius, but Draco had received an owl
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from his father that recently that refuted this idea. He said that
he was running an errand for the Dark Lord, and that he would
not be home for some time. Draco did not believe a word of it,
still believing that his father remained imprisoned in Azkaban.
But he did not want to worry his mother, so he assured her that
everything was all right.
“Good morning, Draco,” she replied tiredly. Ever since
Lucius’s capture, she had seemed to have given up on life.
She moved much more slowly, her head always looking to the
ground. When she did raise her head, the bags under eyes were
large and visible. It looked as though she had not slept in weeks.
“I’ve made some toast for you. There is some jam in the fridge,
so help yourself.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to go to a meeting later, at around
noon.”
“With a Death Eater? I’m worried about you, Draco.
You’ve been running errands for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
for weeks. Your father’s whereabouts are still unknown, and
the Ministry is hot in pursuit of the Death Eaters. Every time
they come by the house, I have to hide you in that secret room
attached to the basement. Draco, you aren’t safe here.”
“Mother, I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me.
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PROGRESS
Professor Snape and I have been working closely together. He

won’t let anything happen to me. I’m going to meet him right
now, in fact. Noon.” Malfoy’s voice began to tremble a bit. “He
said that he had something to tell me. I’ll be back in a few hours.
Really, Mother, don’t worry about me.” He planted a kiss on her
cheek. “Bye, Mother. I’ll see you later.”
He walked out the door into the gloom, rain coming
down hard around him. Snape warned him not to be late, so it
wouldn’t hurt to get there early. Besides, the rain would create a
canopy so he wouldn’t get soaked to the bone.
Crack.
“Good to see you, Draco,” Severus Snape greeted him
acerbically.
“I’m early, Professor,” Malfoy answered worriedly. “It’s
not even noon yet.”
“You are, Draco, you are. It was merely my surprise that
caused my tone of voice. I do think that you will be pleased
to know the Dark Lord’s verdict on our present situation. He
is willing to give you the extra week, but you are not to attack
Borgin during that week. The Dark Lord needs to make some
arrangements, and until then, you will not attack Borgin. Do
you understand me?”
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“I will kill Borgin one week from today, but not before
then.”
“He is going to put other Death Eaters in place around
the perimeter, but they need to complete their own tasks first.
Cooper, he started just after you did, is dealing with gaining
the support of the vampires in Albania. Cooper was an Auror,
but he defected. He was the expert on vampires at the Ministry
for a long time, but he’s working for us now. He thinks he will
finish in a few days. There’s plenty of blood to go round once
the Dark Lord controls the world.” Professor Snape smiled mis-
chievously.
“And what about Crabbe and Goyle?” Draco asked, try-
ing not to sound too interested.
“They’re working together in Romania. The Dark
Lord wants to free some Dragons from the preserve. The West
Country has recovered nicely from the Giant attack, so he is
planning on sending Dragons to burn the place down. It really
is brilliantly planned out. Hopefully, we can coordinate your
attack so that it coincides with the Dragon attack. That way, it
will minimize Ministry participation in the murder of Borgin.
You will be free to easily attack Borgin and get away without
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PROGRESS
hindrance. Goodbye, Draco. We shall speak again after you have

accomplished your mission.”
87
Chapter Six
Bartering with Borgin
“Ron, Ron. Wake up,” Hermione wiped at Ron’s brow

with a damp cloth. “How are you feeling?”
Ron shook his head groggily and sat up in bed. “Much
better, thanks.” He looked outside the window. “It is awfully
early though.”
“Not for you,” Harry responded, walking into the room.
“You’ve been asleep for forty-eight hours. I’ve got an appoint-
ment with Borgin.”
“Why Borgin?’” Ron asked.
“Borgin used to be the employer of Tom Riddle, and was
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B ORG I N
at one point in possession of the cup and the locket. Perhaps he

will know where we could find either one of them.” Hermione
brought Ron a cup of water.
“So I take it that you two have not found the locket
yet.”
“No,” Hermione replied somberly. “I doubt that it is
in the house. Mundungus must have sold it to someone in
Knockturn Alley.”
“You don’t think that it was to old Borgin, do you?”
Ron sipped at his water.
“I doubt it, but that is one of the reasons that we decid-
ed to go over there. Mundungus might not have sold it yet. In
that case, Borgin might be able to tell us where the conniving
thief is.” Harry grimaced at the thought of Mundungus taking
Sirius’s things. “Ron, can you stand?”
Ron stepped out of bed gingerly, and then believing
that he was fine, began to move more quickly about the room.
Quickly, he felt faint and was forced to lie down again. “Oh,
Ron,” Hermione rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe him. “I
don’t think that you are fit to go out with us.”
“You’re not leaving me behind.” Ron jerked up in the
bed, looking very cross. “I’m going with you.”
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“Ron, we can’t risk having you injure yourself. I’m leav-

ing you a DA galleon which you can activate. If you are feeling
ill, just activate the coin and Hermione will apparate back to
Grimmauld Place in an instant.”
“Fine, but if you are in trouble, promise me that you will
activate your DA coin as well. If you won’t let me come with
you, then at least let me be your backup.”
“No, Ron. I don’t want anything to happen to you,”
Hermione answered sternly, clearly worried that her friend may
not be fit to help.
“Hermione, let me do this.” Ron looked at her stub-
bornly. “I want to help.”
“Let him, Hermione,” Harry pleaded. “Ron might be
necessary.”
“Okay.” Hermione grabbed Ron’s coins and pointed
her wand at it. It glowed bright orange for a moment, and then
turned back into its golden color. “I’ve adjusted it so that it will
say where we are at the time of activation. This way, you will be
able to apparate to us as soon as we need you. G’bye, Ron. No
unnecessary risks, remember?” Hermione stepped out the door.
Harry walked after her.
Once outside, Harry and Hermione apparated to the
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B ORG I N
front door of The Leaky Cauldron. Harry draped a hood over

his head, hoping to disguise his recognizable scar. Hermione
quickly followed suit. The Ministry was probably still looking
for Harry and his companions, and Harry was not interested in
their finding out he was there until he was ready for them to
know. A few moments later, the two of them walked casually
through the door.
The pub looked just as empty as it had the previous
year, but even more dusty. Most of the stools were still upside-
down on top of the tables and didn’t seem to have been moved
in some time. Tom was still behind the counter, but he looked
as though he was not expecting any customers. There was an
old witch sitting in the corner of the bar, but she was the only
other person in the deserted pub. Tom looked up expectantly at
the two newcomers, but Harry quelled Tom’s excitement when
he quickly said, “Sorry, Tom, just passing through.” Hagrid had
said those same words a year ago, and Harry felt just as badly
for Tom as he had before. Business was not good at The Leaky
Cauldron, but there was little that Harry could do about it.
“There seems to be a lot of that, nowadays,” Tom replied
absentmindedly. His comment seemed to be directed at no one
in particular, just the first thing that came to mind.
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“A lot of what?” Hermione asked.

“Passing through. Everyone seems to be coming and
going. No one sits back at the pub and enjoys a Butterbeer any-
more, or a Snapdragon ale. Why, I haven’t made that drink in a
long time. Last person who drank one was Hagrid. Couldn’t for-
get Hagrid. He was a big fellow. If you’d seen him, you wouldn’t
forget him either.” Harry started to move towards the back wall
and the entrance to Diagon Alley. “I’m going to have to close
my pub down soon. Just no business anymore. You-Know-Who
scares off the customers. The Ministry was in here last night,
though. They were looking for Harry Potter, the Chosen One,
but I said that I hadn’t seen him. He’s too young to be a cus-
tomer anyhow.”
Hermione tapped the bricks on the back wall, and the
entrance to Diagon Alley opened up. “After you,” she whispered
to Harry. “I think that he might recognize you soon.” Harry
stepped through the door. Hermione followed closely. The
entrance closed behind them. They tried to walk as calmly as
two paranoid wizards could do. They constantly looked around
them, checking for Ministry members or possible assailants.
Harry laughed in spite of himself. Mad-Eye Moody would have
been proud. Every so often, he or Hermione walked into a shop
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so that it would seem as though they were just browsing, instead

of being on a mission. If someone saw them moving towards
Knockturn Alley they would be noticed for sure.
After a few hours of darting in and out of shops, Harry
and Hermione finally made the run into Knockturn Alley,
gripped their wands tightly, and walked into Borgin and Burkes.
Harry pulled the hood a little closer around his head, trying to
keep his identity a secret as long as possible.Borgin often did
dealings like this, unaware of who the customer was. Borgin
stepped out of the back room of the store, and into the front.
“How may I help you?” he asked coldly, trying to size up his two
secretive visitors.
“We are looking for a rare piece of great power. A locket.
I believe that you are in possession of it,” Harry answered care-
fully, trying to be as vague and as probing as possible.
“A locket? I have not been in possession of such a piece
in a long time.”
“So then you have had one? Did it have a large S on it?
Was it Salazar Slytherin’s?”
Borgin stepped back in fright. “What do you know of
Slytherin’s locket?” He muttered these last words, trying to hide
his fear and his surprise.
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Harry ignored the question. “Do you have it? It is

mine.”
“Tom, is that really you?” Borgin looked stunned.
“No, but the locket is mine all the same.”
“Who are you?” Borgin whimpered, clearly not in con-
trol of the situation.
“Where is the locket?”
“I don’t know.” Borgin backed away toward the door.
Harry deftly pulled out his wand, but accidentally
knocked his hood off in the process. “It was stolen from me.”
He pointed his wand at Borgin.
Borgin cringed in fear. “I don’t have it.”
“Harry, lower you wand.” Hermione grabbed his arm
and pulled it down. “Mr. Borgin, can you tell us where
Hepzibah Smith used to live? We need to know where to find
Helga Hufflepuff ’s cup and she was the last person known to
have possessed the object. I have no way to threaten you, no
Fenrir Greyback to bite you on a full moon, but I ask of you
that you help us. Your fate, as well as that of the entire world
depends on it.”
“What? Adding another piece to your rare collection of
Hogwarts antiquities will save the world?” Harry and Hermione
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stared at him openmouthed. “Oh, isn’t it obvious? You are col-

lectors. No, I will not help you add to your collection. And take
off that ridiculous hood, Hermione Granger.” Hermione pulled
off her hood, surprised that he had guessed her identity so eas-
ily. “The Ministry has been looking for you two. Where’s your
third, Roan Wesley, or something of that sort?” Borgin pulled
out his wand and pointed it at Harry earnestly.
Crack.
Ron popped into the room. “Right here.” Borgin spun
around. “Expelliarmus,” Ron cried. Borgin flew backwards into
a cupboard and fell unconscious.
“Ron.” Hermione looked at him with concern. “What
are you doing here? I never activated my galleon.”
“I know, but I was feeling loads better and I was tired
of being all alone. Hearing the mutterings of Phineas Nigellus
throughout the day is a rather frightening experience. Staying in
that house all alone gave me the willies.”
“You look a bit better, although you could still use some
more time in bed.” Hermione eyed Ron suspiciously. Borgin
slowly stirred in the corner, raising his head and looking about
in a daze. “He’s awake,” Hermione whispered to Harry. “Have
you got his wand?”
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Harry bent down to pick up the wand a few feet in

front of Borgin. He pocketed it carefully. “Now I do. I think
we should question him. See what he knows.”
“Harry, we can’t just hold Borgin like this. We are not
Death Eaters.” Borgin visibly cringed at Hermione’s last words.
“We cannot force him to tell us anything.”
“Hermione, we are not going to find the cup or locket
without him. I’m sure of it,” Ron argued as he stepped towards
her. Then more quietly he added, “We’re not going to harm
him, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
Harry nodded vehemently. “Ron’s right, we have to find
the cup and locket. Borgin is our only lead. I’m not leaving
here without any information.” Harry walked over to Borgin.
“Mr. Borgin, I ask you again. Where is the house that Hepzibah
Smith used to live in?” Borgin looked away, trying to avoid
Harry’s piercing gaze. “Please, Mr. Borgin. Where is Hepzibah
Smith’s house? I know that you have that information. You sold
her the locket and the cup. I doubt that you would have forgot-
ten, even after so many years.”
Impatiently, Harry grabbed at Borgin’s collar. “Tell me!”
Harry yelled angrily. “Tell me! Where did she live? Where did
she live?”
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“Harry!” Hermione grabbed at him. “Let go of him!”

Behind her, Ron collapsed to the floor. Harry and Hermione
rushed to Ron. “Are you all right?” Hermione asked worriedly.
Ron sat up. “Yes, I was just a bit woozy for a moment.”
The door slammed behind them.
“Harry, Borgin’s escaped. Follow him. I’ll take care of
Ron.” Harry dashed out the door of Borgin and Burkes and
sped past Clipton’s Carnivorous Plants and Benton’s Befuddling
Mysteries. Borgin was nowhere in sight, so Harry sped deeper
into the bowels of Knockturn Alley. Toothless witches, scarred
thieves, cutthroats and bandits of all kinds were trying to fence
their goods to even viler store owners. Harry ignored them,
his mind set only on finding Borgin. He turned left past the
Boisterous Boils and a sign which read “A Deadly Potion with
Every Purchase.” The alley became even darker, but the bald
man was clearly in sight now. Stupefy, Harry shouted inside his
head, sending a stream of red magic into the fleeing shop owner.
Borgin fell forwards, his momentum causing him to slide along
the cobblestones, scraping this face and hands until he finally
came to rest. Harry ran over and pulled Borgin up. Grabbing a
piece of rope nearby, Harry tied Borgin’s hands together behind
his back.
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“Ennervate,” Harry whispered softly, trying to keep the

few others in the dark alley from hearing him. Borgin came to
life. “Shh,” Harry whispered to Borgin. “We are going to go
back to your store. I promise that I won’t hurt you.” Borgin’s
nose was bleeding profusely. He dabbed unhelpfully with his
handkerchief, unable to stop the bleeding and pointed unhap-
pily at his nose. “Episkey,” Harry whispered.
“Thanks.” Borgin wiped at the dry blood on his face
and clothing with his handkerchief. He stood up, and in a
much more business-like manner said, “You are a formidable
opponent, Mr. Potter. I see that our interests may both be satis-
fied. You have something which I want, and I have information
about where that kind old lady used to live. I haven’t seen that
locket in a long time, so in that mission, you are on your own.”
He began to walk, his hands still tied behind him; Harry walked
casually beside him.
“What is it that you want?” Harry tried to match
Borgin’s business-like tone, but found that he sounded nowhere
near as experienced.
“Your help, Mr. Potter. You see, there are those who wish
to eliminate me, Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy, specifically.”
“Draco Malfoy? You’ve seen him?” Harry looked at
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Borgin incredulously, all thoughts of appearing an indifferent

businessman forgotten.
“Yes. He came to my store nine days ago. He said that
he intended to purchase some dark artifacts, although I’ve never
seen someone hold a wand so tightly while shopping. He also
seemed to be sweating a lot, almost as though he were afraid
of what he was about to do. After a few moments, he left with
a skull. I had just acquired it so I was unsure of its magical
properties, but I think that it held a powerful amount of dark
magic. Anyway, what I want from you is to hold on to one of
my artifacts. It is rather powerful, and I think that it is what
You-Know-Who is after. Come back with me to my store, and
I will show it to you.”
“Fine, but it better not be anything too dangerous. After
I take it, will you tell me where Hepzibah Smith’s house is?”
“Yes, but all in good time. Could you untie me, my
hands are awfully sore?” Harry obliged Borgin, and tucked
the rope back inside a pocket in his robes. The two bargainers
finally reached the front of Borgin and Burke’s. Borgin opened
the door slowly, looking about him wildly in case of an intruder.
When he saw that it was clear, he beckoned Harry to come
inside. Borgin began to look frantically around the store, reach-
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ing under shelves, counters, and getting down on his hands and
knees to search the floor. After a few minutes, Harry finally real-
ized what Borgin was after.
“Oh, sorry. I’ve still got your wand.” Harry handed the
wand to Borgin, careful to point the tip away from himself. “I
picked it up when Ron knocked you out.”
Borgin snatched it out of Harry hand, pointed his wand
towards the wall and uttered, “Alohomora.” A hole in the wall
opened up with a small, battered scroll inside. Borgin pulled it
delicately from its hiding place. “This is what I need you to hold
on to. It is some sort of riddle having to do with Slytherin’s lock-
et. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. You’ll need some knowl-
edge of ancient runes to read it though. Tom left the scroll in
my care, telling me to only give it to someone who displayed the
Dark Mark. Somehow, Regulus Black figured out that I had the
scroll and took it from me. When the Blacks found him dead
up north, Sirius returned the scroll to me, saying that he wanted
nothing to do with it. Now that You-Know-Who disappeared,
I felt no need to follow his orders. Be careful with that scroll. I
don’t know what it is for, but take good care of it. Something
that old is worth a lot of money to the right buyer.”
“Fine. I’ll hold on to it.” Harry removed the scroll
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from Borgin’s hands and slipped it inside his robe. “Where is

Hepzibah Smith’s house?”
“Her house is just north of London. It is atop a large hill
and is surrounded by a grove of trees. It has bright yellow walls
yellow and a black roof, so you really cannot miss it.” Borgin
returned to his formal tone and held out his right hand. “It was
a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter. Perhaps we will
meet some time again in the future.” He rubbed at his face with
a wet cloth.
“Perhaps. Maybe next time it will be in more favorable
conditions. You missed a spot.”
Crack.
With that, Harry was gone.
101
Chapter Seven
The Old Smith House
“How are you feeling, Ronald?” Hermione asked the fol-

lowing morning. Her arms were still sore after having to carry
Ron up the stairs to the bedroom. He had been unable to move
after his collapse.
“So it’s Ronald, now? Are you angry at me?” he sat up
quickly, but regretted it moments later. “Ooh, my head.” He
rubbed his temples with one hand.
“Here, Ron, lie back down.” She pushed Ron backwards
onto the bed. “It appears you are not much better after all. I
don’t think that you should come with us to Hepzibah Smith’s
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former home.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ron sat up again. “Last time you
and Harry went alone you almost got yourselves killed. Lucky I
showed up to save the day.”
“Lucky you didn’t collapse right after you apparated you
should say. Honestly, Ron, you don’t even have your license yet,”
Hermione retorted.
Harry walked into the room, failing to stifle the yawn as
he talked, “Whaat arrrre yoooou taaalking abouuuut nooow?”
“Eh, Harry? Could you repeat thaaat?” Ron began to
yawn as well. Hermione could barely suppress a giggle.
“What are you talking about now?” Harry asked in a
much more understandable voice.
“Ron wants to join us when we go to Hepzibah Smith’s
former residence,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly.
“How is he feeling?”
“I feel fine,” Ron replied looking peeved. “I’m in the
room, you know. You can direct your questions at me.”
“Would you like to join us, Ron?” Harry asked care-
fully.
“Harry, I just said that—“
“Yes,” Ron interrupted. “I feel fine.”
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“It’s settled then Hermione. Ron feels fine, so he’s join-

ing us.”
“Boys,” Hermione muttered under her breath.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The three of them deftly landed in front of the door of
Hepzibah’s former residence, and were quickly thrown back-
wards, rolling down the hill behind them. Ron, eager to show
that he was in top shape, stood up first. After brushing off his
grass covered robes, he pulled Harry and Hermione to their
feet.
“Well that was fun.” Hermione smiled sheepishly.
“Oh, yeah, loads. How often is it that you are thrown
backwards after apparating and have the pleasure of rolling
down a steep hill? I mean I don’t even have my license yet. I
thought I’d splinched.”
“There must have been an anti-apparition enchantment,
like at Hogwarts, Ron. I read about them in Hogwarts, A History.
It says that the charm literally throws the person from the prem-
ises, but it is odd that someone’s personal residence would have
one operating in the middle of the day. Death Eaters really only
attack at night, so there hardly seems any reason prevent people
from apparating to your front door.”
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“We’ll figure it out later, Hermione. Let’s just get up the

hill.” Harry began marching up the hill, beckoning the others
to follow. “We really fell down a long way.” Harry looked up
towards the house at the top. “It’s lucky no one was hurt.”
After ten minutes of walking, the three exhausted wiz-
ards reached the top of the hill, panting heavily. “Do you think
we should go in the house?” Hermione panted.
“Let’s catch our breath a bit first,” Ron panted in
return.
“Are you feeling all right, Ron?” Hermione asked.
“Yes. I am feeling just fine, thank you. Just fine. It was
just a very long walk.”
“Stop quarreling. I think that we should proceed.” Harry
walked quickly towards the front steps, but stopped abruptly
before moving to the front door. “Hermione, do you think that
the enchantment is going to throw us backwards again?”
She stopped moving as well. “I don’t think so, but
maybe one of us should ascend the steps first just to check. So,
er, give it a knock, Harry. We’re right behind you.”
Harry slowly moved towards the front door, bracing
himself for the blow that might come at any moment. But he
kept moving, and the blow did not come. As he reached the
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door, he heard Ron and Hermione breathe sighs of relief and

their footsteps as they moved towards him.
“Knock, Harry,” Ron whispered. “Let’s see if there is
anyone home.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Coming, coming,” a voice from inside responded.
The door opened wide, and a boy around Harry’s
height stepped into view. “Harry?” the boy asked in surprise.
“Hermione? What are you doing here? The Ministry has been
looking for you for weeks. There is no way that I am going to
put you up.”
Harry, Ron and Hermione stood openmouthed, all
three of them unable to speak. It made sense. The Smith family
must have lived there for generations. Hermione was the first to
speak. “Z—Zacharias?”
“At your service.” He gave them a wicked grin.
“So, what are you doing here?” Ron asked dumbly.
“I live here. Me, my father and my mother. Lived here
long as I can remember. My parents got the house right after
Old Hepzibah died. She was a real nutter. Books stacked to
here.” He made motioned to the top of his head. “At least that’s
what my parents said. So what’s your excuse?”
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“We were hoping to look through some of Hepzibah’s

old things, perhaps find some clues to where certain artifacts
that she possessed are.” Hermione did her best to be as vague
as possible, hoping not to reveal too much about the details of
their task.
“No. I really can’t help you. Sorry.” He proceeded to
close the door, but Harry blew it back open with his wand,
knocking Zacharias to the floor as well.
“Are your parents home?” Harry asked. Before Zacharias
could even answer his question, Harry heard footsteps coming
down the stairs. Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione and
they pulled their wands from their pockets.
“Zacharias, dear. We heard a loud noise. Is everything all
right down there?”
“Not really, mother. We have some unexpected guests
and I could really use a hand taking care of them.”
A short woman in flowing purple wizard’s robes just
reached the bottom of the stairs. An image of a badger was
emblazoned on the upper left pocket and the border was
embroidered in gold. She was very frail and bent, the robes
seeming to weigh her down. “Oh, I see.” Then, with a gasp,
“Harry Potter. The Ministry has been looking for you for weeks.
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You, too, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. I’m going to send an
owl to your parents right away.”
“Wait, Mrs. Smith,” Hermione pleaded. “Please don’t
do that. We need your help.”
“Why?”
“Do you know where we could find the artifacts of
Hepzibah Smith? We are looking for a specific one; a cup, of
sorts.” Hermione answered guardedly.
“You can try the attic. It is cluttered up there, but
Hepzibah knows where everything is. Just ask her and she’ll find
them for you.”
“Just ask her?” Ron asked incredulously. “She’s dead.”
“She’s a ghost,” Mrs. Smith replied. “She could not bear
to part with her artifacts, her “collection” as she called it, so she
chose to look at them forever. It is quite the annoyance, actu-
ally. We can’t sell the things for money, and lord knows I could
not be less interested in artifacts anyway. It is just perfectly good
space in the attic gone. I can’t complain though. It gives me
someone to talk to when Zacharias is at school and Alden is at
work.”
“Alden?” Harry asked.
“My husband. He works as a judge for the Wizengamot.
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Things have gotten busy recently as Death Eaters are popping

up all over the place, and there are so many to be put on trial
once they are caught. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until
late at night.”
“Same with my Dad. He’s always coming home after
midnight, but at least he has good stories to tell. People are mak-
ing the craziest things now that You-Know-Who is back.”
Harry looked around anxiously; he would rather meet
Hepzibah sooner than later. “Mrs. Smith,” Harry interjected.
“Can you show us to the attic now? My friends and I would like
to meet with Hepzibah so that we can continue our journey.”
“Yes, dear. Of course. Right this way.” She pointed to
the stairwell in the back of the room. “It is really not too far up
the stairs, just a flight or two. You’ll find Hepzibah Smith in the
back of the attic, sitting in her rocking chair.” She continued to
drone on and on as she walked, but Harry was no longer listen-
ing. Zacharias followed from the rear.
“The lack of conversation during the school year must
really be getting to her,” whispered Hermione to Ron.
“Bloody hell. I’ve never heard someone talk so much
before,” he whispered back.
“What’s that?” Mrs. Smith asked.
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“Nothing,”Hermione assured her. “We were merely

commenting on the portraits that adorn the walls of the stair-
well. They are very, er, nice.”
“Oh aren’t they,” she replied with glee. She pointed to a
particularly ugly portrait. “That’s my great aunt Mildred. And
over there is Old Hepzibah. You will see her in the flesh soon
enough, in a manner of speaking.” The portrait viewing had
brought the procession to a standstill once more. With a calcu-
lated shove, Harry began the procession moving once more.
“Here we are.” Mrs. Smith pointed to the ladder at the
end of the stairwell. “Just climb up there. Hepzibah Smith is at
the top. Now don’t talk to her for too long. She gets grouchy
rather quickly.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember that, Mrs. Smith,” Harry
answered politely, glad to finally reach his goal.
“Just give me a knock when you are done.”
“I will, Mrs. Smith,” Harry replied, quickly becoming
agitated.
“Would you like something to eat?” Mrs. Smith asked,
keeping the conversation going.
“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Smith. Really, don’t worry about
us.” Harry climbed onto the ladder.
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“C’mon, mother,” Zacharias interrupted. Let’s get out

of their way. I’m sure that they have a lot of important things
to do.” As the Smiths walked down the stairs, Mrs. Smith yam-
mering to Zacharias the whole way, Harry, Ron, and Hermione
reached the attic.
“She’s a bloody loon,” Ron exclaimed as soon as they
were all in the attic. “I mean, have you every heard anybody talk
so much? She just didn’t shut up.”
“Who’s there?” a voice croaked from across the room. “I
hope you aren’t talking about my niece. She’s the only person I
talk to all year. Listen to me. I can hardly use my voice.”
“I’m Harry Potter and these are my friends, Ron Weasley
and Hermione Granger.”
“Harry Potter? Ooh, I’ve heard of you, I think. The Boy
Who Lived, isn’t it? Well, I’m Hepizbah Smith. Come towards
me so I can see you better, all three of you.”
As Harry drew closer, he could see the translucent glow
of Hepzibah Smith in her rocking chair. She looked just like
she had in the pensieve Harry had seen earlier that year. “Mrs.
Smith?”
“Please, call me Hepzibah.”
“Hepzibah. I wonder if we could ask you some ques-
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tions, about some of you rarer artifacts and Voldemort.”

She gasped audibly. “You mean Tom, my old friend Tom
Riddle. We were such good friends, such good friends before
he murdered me. It was weeks before they found my body and
all I could do during that time was wander around the house
aimlessly. There was no one to talk to, at least not until Borgin
found me.”
“Why choose to become a ghost if it would means being
so lonely?” Hermione asked.
“I couldn’t very well leave all my artifacts behind, could
I? Tom took my two favorite pieces, but—”
“Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff ’s cup,” Ron inter-
jected.
“Don’t interrupt me, but yes, that is correct. How did
you know?”
“Dumbledore told me,” Harry replied.
“Albus? But didn’t he die?”
“He told me before he died.” Harry looked over at Ron
and Hermione.
“You’ve sure got a lot of artifacts, Hepzibah. How long
did it take you to acquire them?” Ron asked.
“All my life, but that is not what you are here to ask
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about, is it?”
“No, Hepzibah. I would like to know where I could find
the cup that Tom stole from you. It contained powerful magic,
yes?”
“Very powerful, Mr. Potter, very powerful indeed.
Those who drank from the cup were given great strength from
the cup. It could not heal injuries, but it would remove any feel-
ing of pain in the body.”
“Do you know where it is?” Hermione asked.
“I haven’t the foggiest, Miss Granger. He just laughed to
himself as he left. He just laughed. I remember looking down
from the top of the stairwell, hearing his voice cackle as he left,
seeing my limp body lying there in my chair.” She burst into
tears. Hermione reached out to pat her shoulder, momentarily
forgetting that Hepzibah was a ghost, her hand passing straight
through Hepzibah’s body.
Harry could see that they were getting nowhere. “We
have to be going now, Hepzibah,” he aid, using his politest
voice. “Thank you for all your help.” Harry backed up towards
the ladder down from the attic. Hermione and Ron followed
suit.
“Oh. And, Harry, when you find the cup, would you
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bring it back here to me? I should very much like to see it one
last time.”
“We’ll do our best, Hepzibah.” The three of them
promptly left the attic.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You aren’t actually
thinking of bringing it to her one last time, are you? Do you
realize how dangerous that could be?”
“You’re right, Hermione. She shouldn’t see it, but we’ll
just keep this to ourselves. There is no need to upset Hepzibah
further.”
Zacharias Smith met them at the bottom of the stairs.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Harry?” He almost
spat out the name. Apparently Zacharias hadn’t forgiven Harry
for their differences of the last two years.
“Mostly. Tell your mother we send our best. We’ve really
got to be going,” Harry opened the door and the three of them
stepped outside.
“I’ll see you in September, Potter?” Smith asked.
“Y—Yes. Of course. I’ll see you in September.”
Once they were safely out of earshot, Ron said what
was truly bothering him:“We just wasted an entire day at the
Hepzibah woman’s house and we still know absolutely nothing
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about the cup.”

“That’s not so, Ron. We do know some of the cup’s
magical properties. Maybe that will be to our advantage.”
Hermione pulled a lock of hair from the front of her face. “It
removes pain from whoever drinks from the cup, so it may be
useful in ex-treme emergencies.”
“Yes, but we still don’t know where to find it.” Ron
looked away from her. “It is just so complicated. I mean, if she
doesn’t know where to find it, who does?”
“We’ll find it, Ron. I mean, Dumbledore’s found a
Horcrux before, hasn’t he,” Hermione answered anxiously.
“Won’t we, Harry?”
“I think so. Where to next, Hermione?”
“Well, we are wanted wizards. The Ministry is clearly
looking for us, so there is a good chance that Mrs. Smith will
report our whereabouts. I think it would be better to visit the
Ministry first and show your father that we are all right. Then
you two could pass your apparition tests, and we could move
freely throughout the wizarding world, or as freely as one can
move these days.”
“Are you sure about this, Hermione? We could get into
some serious trouble. Rufus Scrimgeour is going to have a field
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day with our disappearance and sudden reappearance.”

“Well it’s better than my parents thinking that we’re all
dead. C’mon, Harry, let’s go back to your place.” With a loud,
crack, Ron vanished.
116
Chapter Eight
All in One Piece
“Look at the paper.” Hermione tossed a copy of The

Daily Prophet in Harry’s direction, nearly landing a corner of it
on his toast.
“What!” he exclaimed. “It can’t be.”
“What is it, Harry?”
“Borgin’s dead, Ron. There’s a Dark Mark over his store.
The Death Eaters must have got to him right after we visited.
We saw him a week ago, so it must have been recent. It says that
they have yet to apprehend any suspects. I think that we should
go to the Ministry today and tell them what we have seen.”
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“I disagree, Harry. I think we should have a look at

Borgin’s shop. I mean, don’t you think that we may be able to
find out who killed Borgin if we took a look around.”
“Hermione it’s been two days since we visited Hepzibah
Smith’s house. How much more time can we stay in hiding?
We’ve got to tell Ron’s parents that we are all right.”
“We can do that afterwards, Harry. We’ll have a look
around Borgin’s shop first. Then, when we’ve see enough, we
can stop by the Ministry. You two can finally take your appari-
tion tests, and maybe we can get some new information.”
“Let’s go,” Ron replied. “Hermione. As long as we’re
going into the heart of London today, perhaps it would be bet-
ter if we held your hands during apparition. Who knows if the
Ministry is going to be looking out for underage apparators.”
“All right, then. Grab my hands.” Ron and Harry each
held one of Hermione’s hands firmly. “Ready.” Crack.
“I still haven’t really gotten used to the sensation,” Ron
remarked. “It just feels so strange to get sucked in and then
popped back out. I can certainly see why broomstick travel has
remained so popular.” He brushed the dust off his robes and
moved towards The Leaky Cauldron.
The door creaked loudly as Ron opened it. “Ah, a
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customer.” Harry and Hermione stepped into view. “Three

customers.” Tom looked over at them hopefully. “What can I
get you?”
“Nothing today, Tom. We’re just—”
“Passing through, right? Why does everyone just pass
through these days? No one is there to drink my butterbeer,
and all because You-Know-Who has returned. You heard what
happened to poor Borgin, didn’t you? Ministry has been pass-
ing through my shop all day, and they haven’t bought a thing.
They brought Borgin’s body through here not more than an
hour ago.”
“Did they?” Hermione asked, trying not to sound too
interested. “Are there still Ministry people at the shop?”
“Just a few Aurors, I believe. Most everyone else has
gone. Kingsley Shacklebolt, he used to come here often, is still
at Borgin’s shop, I believe. Why, are you heading that way?”
“No, no. We were just heading over to Flourish & Blotts
to purchase some books for school. Another year at Hogwarts is
just around the corner.”
“Ah, so you are returning to Hogwarts? Since the passing
of Dumbledore, I’ve heard that many of the students are not this
year. With You-Know-Who back, most parents would rather
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keep their children close to them than send them off to a school
where they may be unsafe anyway.”
Harry decided he’d better end the conversation before
he gave away his identity and those of his pals. “Goodbye, Tom.
We’ll see you later.” Harry tapped the brick in the back of the
pub and Diagon Alley came into view.
“Well, I guess we won’t be the only ones not going back
to Hogwarts this year,” Ron whispered to Hermione. “I mean,
Tom said loads of parents are keeping their kids home.”
“Except, Ron, that our parents aren’t keeping us home,”
she whispered back. “I’m not even sure if we should tell them.”
“Here we are, Borgin and Burkes. Ron and Hermione,
I’m going to need you to distract some of the Aurors while I go
into the shop. I’ve still got my cloak, so that shouldn’t be too
much of a problem. I’ll come get you when I’m done looking
around and we can go to the Ministry.”
“Fine, Harry,” Hermione replied. “I’ll go talk to Kingsley.
Ron, you distract the other Auror by the door.”
“Kingsley, Kingsley Shacklebolt. I haven’t seen you in
a long time.” Hermione walked in his direction. “How have
you been?”
“Miss Granger? The Ministry has been looking for you
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for weeks. Are Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley with you?”
“Ron is, but Harry is, er, running some errands at the
moment.”
“Your parents are worried sick, especially yours,
Hermione. I mean, they’re Muggles and they don’t know any-
thing about the Wizarding World. At least Ron’s parents under-
stand what’s going on, although Mrs. Weasley isn’t too happy
with the current situation either. Arthur is still working at the
Ministry. Maybe you should visit him, you know, show him that
you are all right.” Harry snuck past Kingsley and through the
open door.
“We’re heading over to the Ministry as soon as Harry
has finished his errands. He has a few things that he needs to
pick up for school.” Hermione was surprised at how much easier
it was to lie than it had been in her first year at Hogwarts. So
much had changed since then, and not all of it for the better.
“Oh, so you three are going back to Hogwarts? Most
people aren’t sending their children to school this year. It’s good
that you’re going.”
“Tom said the same thing. You’d think that parents
would still think of Hogwarts as a safe place. I’m sure that it
has better protection than their homes.” Hermione knew what
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Kingsley was going to say next, but it was far more important
to keep the conversation going than to show how much she
knew.
“It is just that ever since Dumbledore died, people no
longer think of Hogwarts as a safe place. Dumbledore was the
only one You-Know-Who ever feared, feared him while he was
in school, I imagine. Even so, with Dumbledore’s death and the
Death Eater attack, Hogwarts just does not seem as safe as it
used to be.”
“Not nearly as safe, I’d agree. Are there going to be
Aurors protecting the school this year?”
“Yes.”
“Yet parents still won’t send their children to Hogwarts,
even with the protection of Aurors.”
“After the disaster at the Ministry a year and a half ago,
it seems as though the Aurors are not strong enough to stand up
to the Death Eaters. And even though I hate to admit it, we may
not be ruthless enough to be able to. They are willing to kill us
at every turn and the best we can do is to stun them. Not a fair
fight if you ask me.”
“Ow.” Hermione stumbled backwards a bit as Harry
knocked into her in warning. Unsure whether she got the mes-
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sage, Harry repeated the action with Ron. “Whoops. I’ll see you
later, Kingsley; Ron and I have got to meet Harry. We’re going
to head over to the Ministry now.”
“If you don’t, young lady, we’re going to take you in our-
selves. In fact, I think that I am going to accompany you.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” Hermione looked nervously
over at Ron.
“No, I’ll accompany you. I’m not letting you slip out of
the Ministry’s sight again.”
Harry ran out of sight of Borgin and Burkes and pulled
off his Invisibility Cloak. Stowing it away carefully, he walked
briskly back towards Ron and Hermione. “Are you ready to
leave?”
“Yes, but Kingsley would like to come with us. Now
that the Ministry has found us they are not so keen on letting
us go again.”
“Not a problem, not a problem.” Harry moved closer to
Ron. “Listen,” he whispered. “As soon as we pass our Apparition
test we’ll just have to sneak out again.”
“Are you ready? You don’t need to buy any more books
for school, do you?” Shacklebolt asked Harry.
“No, I’ve found everything that I need.” Harry grinned
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slightly, giving Hermione a sideways look. “Let’s go.”

* * *
The Ministry of Magic loomed before Kingsley and the
three friends as largely as ever. Kingsley led Harry, Ron, and
Hermione single file, keeping himself behind them until they
entered the building. “Don’t worry, Harry,” he whispered from
behind. “This is just going to be a routine check. I don’t think
that you’ve gotten in too much trouble these past few weeks,
have you?”
“Well, we’ve actually done a number of spells outside of
Hogwarts.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. All of you are seventeen
now, correct?”
Hermione whipped around, her hair slapping wildly on
her face. “Actually, Harry performed all of the spells underage.
He doesn’t turn seventeen until next week.”
“That may cause a spot of trouble then. I know you’ve
gotten a smattering of warnings in the past, but I doubt that
they would expel you from Hogwarts your final year.”
“It wouldn’t really matter—” Ron interrupted, cutting
himself short.
“Ron!” Hermione shouted.
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“What wouldn’t matter?” Kingsley replied in earnest.

Ron turned bright red, but before he could make mat-
ters worse, Harry answered, “It is just that I have broken a
bunch of rules in the past. Remember the flying car, Ron? And
no matter how bad it was, I was never expelled. Besides, I have
a feeling that the attendance at Hogwarts will not be at its best
this year.”
“Ahem,” the clerk on the ground floor of the Ministry
interrupted the conversation. “Where are you going?” Kingsley
tried to turn around, but slammed into an invisible barrier and
fell to the ground. The four had been so engrossed in their con-
versation that they had not noticed their entry into the Ministry,
and had almost walked straight into the barrier.
Shacklebolt stood up and dusted off his robes carefully.
“They installed that just as Rufus took office. Only Ministry of
Magic employees can disable the barrier, but I forgot to show
my identification. Ah, there we are.” He pulled his identifica-
tion out of his robes, and the barrier glowed a faint purple color
for a moment before disappearing. “We are going to Arthur
Weasley, Improper Use of Magical Objects Office. Please tell
him that his son is here to pay him a visit, a long overdue visit.”
Kingsley pushed Ron forward into the elevator and Harry and
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Ron followed in behind them. “I need to file my report, so I am

not going with you. Don’t try any funny business; you cannot
apparate into or out of the Ministry of Magic. Arthur should be
waiting for you as soon as you leave the elevator.”
The elevator door closed and opened once again, this
time showing the stern face of Arthur Weasley at its exit. Upon
seeing Ron again, however, he broke into a wide smile. “Ron,
we’ve been worried sick. It was clear that you were living with
Harry and Hermione, and it seems that they took good care of
you. But stupefying your mother and running off in the middle
of the night without so much as a warning or note was just too
much.”
“Actually, Mr. Weasley,” Harry interjected. “I stupefied
Mrs. Weasley. I felt rather bad about it too, but there was no way
that we were going to be able to sneak out of the house in the
middle of the night if she were there to prevent us.”
“But why did you need to leave in the night? You-Know-
Who and his Death Eaters are out there and you could have
been killed. It wasn’t until Borgin spotted you a week ago that
we knew you were all right. Thank goodness Kingsley brought
you in. Molly spent hours every day looking at the clock. She
even added hands for Harry and Hermione to make sure that
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they were okay also. The clock also said that you were sick for
a few days, but I guess Hermione took good care of you.”
“It was nothing, really, Mr. Weasley.” Hermione brushed
her hair back slightly. “Ron was bitten by Bundimuns, but we
cured him rather quickly.”
“Where were you that there were Bundimuns?” Mrs.
Weasley asked angrily as she stormed out of the elevator, taking
her place beside her husband. Hermione looked towards Harry,
unsure whether to go on or whether to let Harry speak.
“Godric’s Hollow.” Harry replied quickly. Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley gasped audibly . “I had to see where everything began,
where my parents were murdered. We walked into the house,
and it seemed stable. It was only later that we learned that the
house was collapsing. Ron fell through the floor to the cellar and
was later bitten by Bundimuns, just as we were leaving; in fact,
Hermione saved him. She gave him large amounts of water,
turning the otherwise toxic Bundimun fluid into just some
soapy cleaning solution. It was brilliant, just brilliant.”
“It bloody was. I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for
Hermione.” Ron smiled briefly at her. “The house collapsed
around us as we were leaving, so there is really nothing left to
see.”
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“And Borgin?” Mrs. Weasley looked skeptically at Harry,

Ron, and Hermione. “What were the three of you doing in
Knockturn Alley?”
Ron looked helplessly at Harry and Hermione, and they
looked back at him just as helplessly. Fortunately, it was then
that Rufus Scrimgeour arrived in the elevator. “I think that it
is getting a little crowded in here. Perhaps it would be best to
continue this discussion in my office. I have some matters of
great importance that I would like to discuss with all of you.”
He eyed Harry in particular and motioned for everyone to get
off the elevator.
The doors reopened, and soon everyone was in the
Minister of Magic’s Office. Scrimgeour sat down casually in his
armchair and motioned for the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione
to sit opposite him. “What I have here,” he conjured numerous
papers out of the air, “are several counts of illegal apparition,
numerous underage uses of magic, and records that show you
are the last known visitors to Mr. Borgin’s shop. I believe that
these actions need to be explained in order to prevent, how shall
I put it, complications.”
“We can explain everything,” Hermione began.
“Explain everything. I doubt it,” he sneered. “Mr.
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Potter, what were you thinking? Do you realize the ramifica-

tions of your actions? The Wizarding World looks to you as an
example, Potter, an example. We can’t have you running about,
creating mischief.”
“I don’t work for you,” Harry muttered.
“What’s that?” Rufus leaned forward.
“I don’t work for you.” Harry looked grimly at the
Minister. “We have done nothing wrong, at least they haven’t,”
he said, pointing to his friends. ‘We are now all of Wizarding age,
so I see no reason to bring up these past offenses.” Her-mione
gasped audibly as she heard Harry’s tirade against the Minister.
“Furthermore, Ron and I are going to take our Apparition Tests
just as soon as you release us. And finally, it is clear to me that
Mr. Borgin’s death was the work of Death Eaters, so I am still
unsure of why we are sitting here talking to you.”
Harry stormed out of the room, unceremoniously slam-
ming the door as loudly as possible behind him. The stunned
Minister only whispered, “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, er, Mr.
Weasley and Miss Granger, you are free to go.”
They caught up to Harry in the hallway. “Are you mad,
Harry, yelling at the Minister of Magic. You’ve got some nerve,”
Hermione scolded.
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“I’ll say.” Ron added. “That was bloody brilliant, but a

little scary if you ask me. I don’t know, Harry. He is too stunned
to move right now, but I bet he’s going to be like one of Neville’s
cauldrons later, bubbling over with steam.” The three of them
entered the door to the Apparition testing room.
“Ah, there you are.” The apparition instructor said calm-
ly. “Sorry, Miss Granger, but you will have to remain outside the
room.” She stepped out quickly, crossing her fingers in a sign of
good luck. “Gentlemen, you remember the three D’s.”
“Yes,” they replied together.
“All right then, go when ready.” With a loud crack,
both Harry and Ron ended up at the opposite end of the room.
“Congratulations, you’ve passed the test. That wasn’t so bad,
was it? Now remember the three D’s and that you should not
apparate in heavily populated Muggle areas, as well as avoid
apparating into and out of closets. One might find that he leaves
the closet with a different outfit than what he was originally
wearing.”
“Why?” Ron asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“Snivell’s Clothe Swapping Theorem clearly states that
clothing has a tendency to switch with other clothing nearby,
especially if the apparition occurs with too little Deliberation.
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It is all in the pamphlet.” He handed Harry and Ron two pam-

phlets called Apparating and You.
“How did it go?” Hermione asked when they got back
into the hallway.
“Perfectly. Ron left no body part behind this time. We
both passed, and we are wearing the same articles of clothing
that we were before we apparated.”
“What? Why would you be wearing different cloth-
ing?”
“Snivell’s Clothe Swapping Theorem, Hermione. It’s
all in the pamphlet.” Ron held up the pamphlet and nudged
Hermione slightly. “Don’t you ever read?”
131
Chapter Nine
The Phoenix Falls
“Wormtail, give me your arm.” Wormtail held out the

arm that held the Dark Mark towards Voldemort. He writhed
in pain as the Dark Lord tapped his wand against the mark,
bringing it to life. “Thank you, Wormtail. I think that it is time
for a meeting. I have much to discuss with my Death Eaters,
plans for the future.” As he said these words, Death Eaters began
to enter the field, forming a circle around their master. When
all fifty Death Eaters had finally arrived, the circle looked very
full indeed. There were no longer any gaps as there were when
Voldemort first came back into power two years earlier. Every
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FA L L S
place was filled, for at last, Severus Snape had taken his old place
once again. Now the Death Eaters were complete.
“We have not met together in this circle since I first
came back to full strength, and the circle was much smaller
then, much emptier. Now we are strong once more.” A hurrah
came up from the mouths of the Death Eaters, revealing their
eagerness to do their master’s bidding. “For a long time, I have
met with each of you individually, assigning you tasks and mis-
sions that were unique. We have not met as a group for a long
time, but we are together once more and even more powerful
than before.” A cheer came up once again. “Now,” Voldemort
spoke softly. “That Snape has rejoined our ranks.”
All the Death Eaters fell silent, glancing first at each
other, and then staring through their masks at Severus Snape,
the final man to join the circle. A Death Eater to the Dark
Lord’s left side bowed. “My lord. I do not think that we can
trust Snape. He has returned only recently, and he has aided the
Order for years.” The Death Eaters began to murmur to each
other, each trying demonstrate his own opinion to his compan-
ions.
“Silence!” Lord Voldemort shouted “Silence. Severus
Snape has spied on the Order and Albus Dumbledore for years
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C HA P T E R N I N E
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at great risk to himself. I do not think of him as a traitor, not

even for a moment. Severus Snape killed Dumbledore when
Malfoy could not.”
“Of course Malfoy couldn’t, My Lord. Lucius was in
jail,” Goyle interrupted stupidly.
“Not that Malfoy, you nitwit. Draco Malfoy, Lucius’s
son stood there, his wand at the ready, but he would not say
Avada Kedavra.” As he said these words, Voldemort cast the
curse in Draco’s direction, being sure to miss his head by just
inches. Draco audibly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are we finished?” Voldemort hissed. “If I say that I
believe in Severus Snape, so should you all.” He looked around
the circle, daring the Death Eaters to oppose him. “Wormtail,
Wormtail. Would you come towards me please?” Voldemort
beckoned to Wormtail to come closer. “The list,” he whispered.
“The list.”
Peter Pettigrew handed the list over to Voldemort, bow-
ing slightly as he did so. His silver hand glinted faintly in the
light given off by the few torches in the field. “Thank you,
Wormtail.” Voldemort turned towards his followers. “As I have
said before, the Death Eaters are stronger than ever. We are far
stronger in number, however, than in magical ability. Some of
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FA L L S
you have such hatred for filthy Muggles and Mudbloods, but
you have no ability to use it for your advantage.”
“But My Lord, we have not had the practice necessary,”
a new Death Eater named Livy argued.
“Well practice makes perfect then, doesn’t it? Yes, young
Livy. You shall most certainly have the practice you so desper-
ately need.” Voldemort held up the list for all to see. “Right here
I have your tasks which you must complete. Most of them have
to do with terrorizing other wizards and muggles, but some bear
great importance in our upcoming battle with the remnants of
the Order. The Phoenix has fallen, my servants. Soon, there will
be no one to stand in our way.” Voldemort breathed in deeply,
clenching his hands into two tight fists, smelling the glory that
would soon be his.
* * *
Harry awoke, his scar burning sharply in his forehead.
He sat up quickly in bed, his body in a cold sweat. His elbow
knocked the teacup on his nightstand onto the ground, shatter-
ing it into tiny pieces. Ron was the first to reach him. “Harry,
are you all right?”
Harry hurriedly replied, “I’m fine, Ron. Don’t worry
about it. It was just a bad dream.”
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Hermione dashed into the room, worried that Harry or

Ron was hurt. “Reparo,” she whispered in relief as she saw the
shattered cup on the ground. The cup became whole again and
sat upright on the floor. “It was about You-Know-Who, again,
wasn’t it? A vision of what he was doing right now.” Hermione
looked at him, her mouth down in a frown of worry.
Harry nodded slowly, leaning against the back of the
bed. “Voldemort seemed very pleased with himself, very pleased
with himself. He said something about the fall of the Order and
that soon he and his followers would take over the world.”
“But why would he let you see this, Harry? He could
have easily stopped you from finding out his plans. It doesn’t
make any sense.” Hermione creased her forehead in thought.
“Maybe he just forgot about Harry’s ability to see what
You-Know-Who was planning.”
“Not likely, Ron. I think that either Voldemort does not
care whether or not you know what his plans are, or he is show-
ing you only what he wants you to see. Harry, what was the last
thing you saw before you woke up?”
“Voldemort took a deep breath and clenched his hands.
His list crumpled, and then I woke up.”
“What list, Harry?” Hermione sat down on Harry’s bed.
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FA L L S
Ron quickly followed suit. “You never mentioned any list.”

“The list contained his plans for the Death Eaters, what
they were going to do next. He had tasks for every member, and
he was just about to tell them what they were.”
“And then you woke up,” Ron said, realizing why.
“And then he woke up. Now we know that Voldemort
has plans, Harry, but not what those plans are. He must have
done this intentionally, to torture you Harry. Once he employed
Occlumency, your mind must have been jolted into alertness.
Go back to sleep, Harry. You-Know-Who won’t bother you
again.” Hermione brushed her hand across Harry’s brow, and
then she left to go back to bed.
But Harry could not sleep. He lay back in bed, brush-
ing thoughtfully at the hairs on his head. Voldemort was clearly
planning something and with the Order disorganized after the
death of Dumbledore, it did seem that Voldemort was all but
unstoppable. Harry pictured the circle of fifty Death Eaters sur-
rounding the Dark Lord in the center and the image of Severus
Snape at the Dark Lord’s right hand. A long time later, he could
finally rest his eyes.
* * *
The meeting had nearly come to a close. Voldemort
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had one task left to assign to the last three Death Eaters, a task
of utmost importance. It was simply really, just a one step task.
There were no catches or gimmicks and these three Death Eaters
should be able to accomplish it on their own. “Malfoy, Pinter,
step forward please.” Draco Malfoy strode forwards, trying to
hide the fear in his eyes and his accelerated heartbeat. Pinter, the
last Death Eater to earn his place in the clan tried to hide his
fear too. His legs shook as he walked and Voldemort could see
that he was none to happy with being called at the end of the
list. “Come faster!” Voldemort shouted, knocking Pinter to the
ground and pulling him forward with his wand.
“Are you ready for your task?” Voldemort hissed, petting
the top of Nagini’s head as he slithered up his shoulder. “I think
that you will like this one, young Draco. You will enjoy this task
indeed. After hearing of you belated success with Borgin, I’ve
decided to give you a more challenging task, one that you will
not do so slowly. Free your father, Draco. Yes, free your father.”
Pinter groveled at the Dark Lord’s feet. “Pinter, get up.” Lord
Voldemort pulled Pinter to his feet with one deft motion as
though he were a ragdoll.
“Pinter, you shall assist Draco. You have yet to prove
your worth as well. My most trusted aide, Severus will assist you
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FA L L S
both, but mainly just to keep an eye on you. If you do not suc-
ceed in this task, I’m certain that he will. Perhaps, Draco, you
may even find yourself jailed in your father’s old cell. Maybe
you can make a family tradition of it.” Voldemort chuckled to
himself lightly.
When they were gone, Voldemort smiled to Nagini.
“Let’s go to the cave, my dear. I think that I should want to see
the locket one more time. Dumbledore has taken my ring from
me, but with luck he may not yet have reached the locket.”
Voldemort wrapped Nagini around his neck, and in a loud crack
was gone.
* * *
Harry woke up much more calmly this time, a small
smile crossing his face. Voldemort had left for the cave and soon
would be thwarted by his missing locket. “Ron, Hermione,”
Harry called softly to his companions. “I know where Voldemort
is going.”
There was no answer. Ron was not in his bed, and as
Harry soon found out, Hermione’s room next door was unoc-
cupied. Harry ran down the stairs to the kitchen where he found
Ron and Hermione eating their breakfast. “One of you could
have woken me,” he declared.
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“I told Ron not to disturb you. You were having a

rough night, so I thought that a little extra sleep wouldn’t hurt.”
Hermione looked at Harry apologetically.
“Yeah, Harry, cut her some slack.” Ron replied through
a mouthful of food.
“Sorry. It is just that I had another dream last night.
Voldermort ordered Snape, Malfoy, and some guy named
Pinter, all Death Eaters of course, to free Lucius Malfoy from
Azkaban.”
Ron jumped out of his seat. “C’mon, Harry. We’ve got
to tell the Ministry.”
“Wait, there’s more. Voldemort is going to the cave
where Dumbledore and I went last year. He is looking for the
locket. At least, that is what he told Nagini.”
“Except, there is no locket there anymore, is there?” Ron
replied.
“No, Ron there is not. Which is why we’ve got to find
it before he does,” Harry replied urgently. “Ron, Hermione, I
want you two to go to the Ministry. Tell your father everything
that has happened, Ron, about the dreams. Hermione, see if you
can find Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
“And what are you going to do, Harry?” Hermione
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FA L L S
asked, afraid that she already knew what the answer was.
“Find Mundungus Fletcher. I’ll ask around the shops,
but now that Borgin’s dead, it is going to be a little harder than
it looks.”
“No you’re not, Harry. If Voldemort is looking for the
locket as well, which I’m certain that he will now that it is miss-
ing, we’re going after Mundungus together.” Hermione looked
stubbornly at Harry. Harry looked over at Ron for support, but
to his dismay, he found none to be had.
“Hermione’s right, Harry. You’ve got to come to the
Ministry first If we leave now, we’ll still have a head start on
Voldemort. Remember, Voldemort doesn’t even know that
Mundungus had possession of the locket, but he will soon.”
“Fine, I’ll come with you, but I am not happy about
it.”
* * *
“Please state your name, age, and purpose for this visit,”
the clerk at the ground floor of the Ministry of Magic began.
“Harry Potter, 17, visiting Arthur Weasley and Kingsley
Shacklebolt.”
“Harry Potter? Oh yes, I can see the scar. Splendid.
Would you sign this for me? My son has always wanted to meet
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you.” Harry grudgingly took the quill and parchment from the
clerk. “Thank you. Here you go.” He took the quill and parch-
ment back and gave Harry a nametag with his information.
“One more thing. Would you please roll up both your sleeves
and show me the inside of your arms?” Harry did as asked.
“Thank you, next.”
“Ronald Weasley, 17, visiting Arthur Weasley and
Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
“Here you are and would you please roll up your sleeves
for me.” Ron took the nametag and did as asked. “Splendid.
Your father would be most displeased if it turned out that you
were a Death Eater. And who is this lovely lady.” He pointed to
Hermione with one of his long crooked fingers.
“Hermione Granger, 17, visiting Arthur Weasley and
Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
“My, they sure have a lot of visitors today. I hope that
these are going to be short meetings because three of you have
arrived at the same time.”
Hermione giggled. “Mister—”
“Hornish,” the clerk filled in for her.
“Mr. Hornish, we are visiting them together. That is
why all three of us are here at the same time.”
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“Splendid. Would you roll up your sleeves for me?”

Hermione did as asked.
“Lovely. Oh, don’t forget your nametag.” She took it
quickly and the three of them walked away. A few moments
later, they had reached The Improper Use of Magical Artifacts
Office.
“Is my Dad there?” Ron asked Marcus Binkin, one of
the wizards who worked for Arthur Weasley.
Marcus looked up and replied, “Sorry, Ron. Your dad
stepped out for lunch. The lunchroom is on the third floor, first
door on your left when you step off the elevator.”
As they walked away, Ron threw as quick “Thank you”
over his right shoulder. The three got into the elevator, pressed
the button, and stepped out of the elevator just as quickly as
they got in. Just as they were about to enter the lunchroom,
they were stopped by a guard. “That will be three sickles, one
for each of you,” a female voice ordered. Just as Harry was about
to pull out the money from his pocket, the guard grabbed his
hand. “Put away your money, Harry. It’s me, Tonks.” As she
said this, her altered face morphed back to its original features.
Hermione rushed forward and gave Tonks a hug. “It
is so great to see you, Tonks, but what are you doing at the
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Ministry?”
“I’m actually working as a bodyguard for Ron’s father,”
Tonks replied with a grin. “It’s good work. I was just about to
follow him into the lunchroom.”
“Is my father in some kind of danger?” Ron asked wor-
riedly.
“No, thank goodness. Rufus Scrimgeour has just changed
protocol so that all heads of Ministry departments must have a
bodyguard. Most of the department heads just find that we
interfere with their work, so we try to stay out of the way.” Ron
looked visibly relieved. “Shall we go in, then?” Tonks asked,
pulling the door open and gesturing inside.
“There’s your dad, Ron.” Harry pointed to a table near
the back where Mr. Weasley was eating with Kingsley, and two
other Ministry employees.
As they reached the trouble, one of the Ministry
employees looked up and said, “Arthur, I think one of your boys
is here.”
“Hello, Ron. What are you doing here? That’s twice in
two days that you’ve been to the Ministry.”
“Erm, Dad,” he began quietly. “I was wondering if we
could speak to you and Kingsley in private.”
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In order not to make the others feel as though they were

being sent away, Arthur explained, “Kingsley is an old family
friend, you see. I think this must be something that Ron would
be more comfortable speaking about with just the two of us. I
hope that you don’t mind.”
“Oh not at all,” one of the others at the table replied.
“We’ll just move to another table, then.”
“No need, no need. We’ll just go up to my office. It is
a bit bigger than the closet I used to have in the old days.” He
chuckled to himself slightly and rose up from the table. “Let’s
go you three. Tonks, Kingsley, you come too. I’ll see you back at
work at one-thirty, Tibler and Scott. We’ve just gotten a whole
shipment of illegal cauldrons from Belgium that will need to be
taken care of. They are in the hallway upstairs.”
“Right-o, Arthur,” Tibler replied. “We’ll be up in a
jiff.”
The six wizards went to Arthur’s office in silence. Harry
had never been in Arthur’s new office before and was dazzled
by the view. The walls were covered by bright colored wallpaper
of wands and wizards hats. There were lavish red chairs at the
perimeter of the room and a large bowl of Chocolate Covered
plugs in the center of the room, prongs sticking out in all
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directions. Harry smiled in spite of himself, remembering Mr.

Weasley’s fascination with plugs. “You have a very nice office,
Mr. Weasley.”
“I do, don’t I? It came with the promotion. Pity I
can’t spend very much time in it. All the hustle and bustle of
the Ministry life is getting too much now that Voldemort has
returned. After you left yesterday, I just got a message that there
were illegal cauldrons being sold in Belgium. That’s the large
stack of junk that you see in the hallway. Rufus will probably
have the house-elves melt it down for—”
“House-elves! You have house-elves here!” Hermione
looked appalled.
“Of course. They cook the food and keep the place
clean. Rufus also uses them for odd jobs.” Seeing the look of
disgust on Hermione’s face, he moved quickly to console her.
“Don’t worry. The house-elves are treated very well here. The
elves all share five bedrooms at the Ministry, each bedroom three
or four times larger than my office. They have comfortable beds
and are extremely well fed.”
Seeing that Hermione was about to go on another
S.P.E.W. tirade, Ron quickly replied, “That sounds lovely, Dad.
We’ve come on more important business, however. Tell him,
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Harry.”
“Last night I had two dreams, or rather, visions, I should
say. In the first, Voldemort gathered all of his Death Eaters to
him and informed them the Order has collapsed and that he is
planning to take power soon.” Mr. Weasley nodded gravely .
He knew very well that Harry’s dreams were often visions. One
such vision had saved his life two years earlier, when Voldemort’s
snake Nagini bit him in the Ministry itself. “In the second,
Voldemort ordered Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape and a Death
Eater named Pinter to free Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban. I’m
certain that they are attempting to break him out soon, probably
even tonight. You’ve got to post some sort of guard, some means
of preventing the Death Eaters from freeing Lucius Malfoy.”
“I see,” Arthur replied grimly. “Are you certain that this
was a vision?”
“Completely, sir,” Harry replied earnestly.
“Kingsley, please go tell the Minister that there is evi-
dence that suggests that three Death Eaters are going to attempt
to break Lucius Malfoy from prison tonight. Harry, Ron, and
Hermione, I think it best that you leave now before Rufus hears
that you have come. Tonks, would you please show them out of
the building?”
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“Right away, Arthur.” Tonks ushered Harry, Ron and

Hermione into the elevator and out of the building. “School
starts in a week. Have you gotten your books yet?”
Impulsively, Hermione responded, “We’re not going
back to Hogwarts this year. We have some matters that we need
to attend to outside of school first. It is possible that we’ll come
second semester.” She covered her mouth, realizing what she
had just divulged. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Of course not. Your secret is safe with me, but wherever
you’re going, please be careful. I’ll tell Arthur that you’re not
going to Hogwarts once the Hogwarts Express has left the sta-
tion, but not before.”
“Thank you, Tonks.” Hermione gave her another hug,
and the three truants walked briskly away.
“You didn’t tell my father about the cave, Harry. Why
not?” Ron asked in surprise.
“I didn’t feel that it was necessary for him to know about
it, Ron. Remember, we are three of the four people on earth that
know about Voldemort’s Horcruxes. One of them is Voldemort,
and he isn’t going to tell anybody. I don’t think that we should
either.”
“Don’t forget Professor Slughorn. I’m sure that the king
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FA L L S
of the Slug Club knows about the Horcruxes as well,” Ron spat
out bitterly. His memories of Slughorn were none to fond, and
even though Hermione thought that he was very friendly, slugs
were just not Ron’s cup of tea.
“Well, Professor Slughorn isn’t going to say anything
either. It took a whole lot of luck just to get that one memory
out of him, and he was roaring drunk then. I doubt that he’d
be willing to say anything about Voldemort now.” Just as Harry
finished, a small, spindly man carrying a large sack rammed into
him, knocking him to the ground.
The man stopped and uttered, “Excuse me,” but after
seeing Harry’s face ran away just as quickly as he had arrived.
“It’s Mundungus,” Harry rasped, the wind knocked out
of him. “Pull me up. After him.”
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Chapter Ten
Dung’s Demise
“Which way has he gone?” Ron asked Hermione, rub-

bing his chin thoughtfully.
“He turned left right past the shop with the pink flow-
ers,” she responded urgently. “You just run after Mundungus.
I’ll get Harry back on his feet. We’ll catch up to you as soon as
we can.”
Ron sped away, bumping into food stalls and hurried
customers, shouts of “sorry” and “excuse me” filling the air.
Hermione laughed and pulled Harry to his feet. “Come on,
Harry. We’ve got to get moving. You don’t think that Ron is
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going to catch Mundungus himself, do you?”

“I doubt it,” he rasped out between quick breaths.
“My, you’ve really gotten the wind knocked out of
you, haven’t you?” Harry coughed loudly. “Are you all right?”
Hermione asked in fear.
“Much better now, thanks,” Harry replied, his voice
much clearer than before. “My leg’s a little sore, though.”
“Run as best you can, Harry. We’ve got to catch up to
Ron.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. Soon they
made the first left and were greeted by a cluster of flowers that
had clearly been knocked over during the chase, but when they
got to the corner, there was no sign of a disturbance.
“Okay, we’ve got a problem.”
“No trail?” Harry replied, unsurprised.
“No trail. Well, let’s think. If I were a thief, and had just
been running from someone, where would I go?” Hermione
rubbed her chin thoughtfully, imitating the motion that Ron
had done just a few minutes before.
“Well he was carrying a bag of something, but it looked
like a big sack.”
“It’s got to be Knockturn Alley.He must have just gotten
a pile of loot from out of town, and now he wants to sell it. But
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how are we going to get there before he does?”

Harry raised his wand in response. “What are you
doing?” Hermione scolded. “You can’t be shoving your wand up
in the air around Mug—.” She flew flat into the back of the
wall as the Knight Bus pulled into view.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, transportation for strand-
ed wizards and witches. I’m your conductor, Stan Shunpike.
Just hop on board, sir.” Stan looked up momentarily. “Harry
Potter?” Harry nodded slowly. “It’s so good to see you. Let me
help you with your bags. Oh, you haven’t got any. And who’s
this lovely lady?”
“Hermione Granger, Mr. Shunpike,” she responded
politely.
“Oh, just call me Stan. Where to, Harry? I heard what
you did for me when the Ministry locked me up, so this ride’s
free.”
“Thanks. We’re going to The Leaky Cauldron and
hurry…please.”
“Okay, Ernie. Next stop, The Leaky Cauldron. Grab a
bedpost; it’s going to be a wild ride.”
Harry and Hermione were suddenly thrown violently
sideways, tumbling onto the bottom bunk of one of the beds.
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“If you don’t mind,” Harry whispered, “I’d really like for you to
get your knee off of my stomach now.” Hermione got up slowly,
trying to maintain a hold on part of the bed, but she quickly
lost her balance once again as the bus turned to avoid smashing
into two taxi cabs.
“Bloody taxi drivers,” Ernie muttered to himself. “Always
cutting me off when I’m trying to get somewheres.” With a
sudden stop, the Knight Bus parked in front of The Leaky
Cauldron.
“Nice to see ya, Harry. Next time, of course, you’ll be
a paying customer. I’ve got to make a living, you know.” Stan
Shunpike tipped his hat, boarded the bus, and sped off.
A bright light showed through the tiny window on the
door of The Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Hermione opened the
door slowly, hoping to catch Mundungus off guard if he was
already inside. “Harry Potter, would you care for some but-
terbeer? You red-haired friend has already downed five, and he
looks to be a tad full.”
“My red-haired friend?” A puzzled look crossed Harry’s
face for a moment.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered, tugging on the right
sleeve of his robe. “It’s Ron.” She pointed in Ron’s direction and
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began to move towards his table.

“I’ve lost him, Hermione,” he whimpered as she sat
down at his table. “Mundungus escaped; he was just too fast for
me.” He leaned his head against her shoulder.
“Is he already in Knockturn Alley?” she asked as she
stroked Ron’s brow.
“No, I don’t think so. I lost him just as we were passing
that big Muggle shop, Harrod’s, or something. I was just com-
pletely out of breath, so I stopped running. At first, I was going
to go back to Grimm, er, Harry’s house, but then I got thirsty, so
I apparated here. I didn’t think you’d be coming by. Would you
like some butterbeer? It’s very good. Tom doesn’t make it quite
as well as Madame Rosmerta, but then, who does?”
“Harry, do you know what this means?” Before Harry
could answer, Hermione blurted out, “Mundungus probably
hasn’t arrived yet! He’s been running the whole time on foot.
There’s no chance he beat us here with that reckless driver car-
rying us to the Leaky Cauldron in a matter of minutes. We can
wait here and catch him as he enters Diagon Alley.”
Harry took a seat at the table and they waited. Travelers
came into and out of the alley, but there was no sign of
Mundungus. It was dark, and Hermione was just about to sug-
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gest that they go home when a scraggly many with a large bag
walked into the pub.
“Hello, Tom,” he began cheerfully.
“Would you like something to drink, Mr. Fletcher?”
Tom asked, hoping to sell just a few more drinks before clos-
ing.
“No, thank you. I’m just passing through.” He gave Tom
a short bow, and walked into the back of the pub. Harry, Ron
and Hermione jumped to their feet and walked slowly to the
back wall after Mundungus, but by the time they reached him,
he had already opened the door to Diagon Alley. It was already
dark in the alley, but a few shops were still open. Mundungus
must have noticed that they were after him, because all of a
sudden, he broke into a run, speeding down the main street of
Diagon Alley. Moments later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran
after him.
It was getting harder and harder to see, and the three
friends could barely make out the shape of Mundungus in his
black cloak. Without even thinking, Harry pulled out his wand
and silently sent as series of Stupefy spells in Mundungus’s
general direction. They all missed, but one stray bolt smacked
straight into a shop sign, sending it smashing to the ground.
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The proprietors dashed outside and captured Mundungus in

just a few brief seconds, believing that he had done the dam-
age.
“I don’t know, George,” said Fred. “This little guy has
done a lot of damage to our shop. We just bought this sign
last week. How inconvenient! If he came last week, maybe we
would have let him go.”
“I doubt it, Fred. Look at him. He’s go the face of a no
good stinking rat, kind of like Perce, but taller. Better fix the
sign then. Reparo,” George cast lazily, and the sign reattached
itself to the store. “Hey, who are they?” He gestured to the three
wizards running towards them. “That looks a little like Ron.”
“Tall, gangly, a bit uncoordinated. Yeah, that’s Ron all
right,” Fred replied with a laugh. “Oi, Ronald. Were you look-
ing for this mangy criminal? He broke our new sign.”
“It looks fine to me,” Ron replied as he reached his
brothers.
“Of course it does. George fixed it,” Fred replied.
“Sorry about the sign, but at least you got it fixed.”
“What’s there to be sorry about? You did nothing wrong,
Harry.”
“Actually, I knocked down your sign when I was chasing
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after him. He pointed to Mundungus.”

“In that case, the fee is five galleons,” George replied.
Harry looked at him openmouthed. “I’m just joking. For you,
it’s ten.” He shook Harry’s hand. “Honestly, Harry, don’t worry.
No harm done.”
Eager to get down to business, Harry asked, “Have you
closed up your store for the evening?”
“Yep. We were just about to go to sleep upstairs—we’ve
got a nice apartment up their now—when our sign came crashing
down,”George answered, tightening his grip on Mundungus.
“Could we bring him into your shop? I’ve got to ask him
a few questions.”
“I don’t see why not, Harry. Just one condition; we want
to watch.”
“There’s not much to see,” Harry replied hurriedly. “I
just want him to tell me whom he sold Sirius’s locket to after he
stole it from my house.” Mundungus’ eyes opened wide and he
shrank back in fear.
“I think that his eyes say otherwise,” Fred replied, point-
ing at the sniveling man on the ground. “Let’s take him into
the empty storeroom.” Fred grabbed one of Mundungus’s arms
and George the other. “We just sent the Ministry the last of our
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Shield cloaks and hats, but we’ve got a new product line on the
way. Can’t tell you though. Top secret.” He winked.
The shop looked rather eerie now that it was empty of
its customers. The main part of the shop was solely illuminated
by the light of the moon, and the store seemed entirely devoid
of color. Without the young children and bright colors, the shop
was as frightening and foreboding as Borgin and Burke’s.
“I think I like your store better in the daytime,” Ron
commented, and Harry was glad that someone shared his senti-
ments.
“Here, try on these glasses.” George reached out with his
free hand, and snatched two pairs of glasses from a shelf. “Ron,
Hermione, put these on.”
“Amazing. How did you get these to work?” Hermione
asked, looking all around the room.
“It was simple, really. We call them our Lumos glasses,
great for children and squibs. They allow you to see in the dark,
even if you can’t cast the lumos spell yourself. We found that
they were even better than a wand because they give light only
to the wearer.”
“Like Malfoy’s Hand of Glory,” Hermione exclaimed.
“Do they also work with your darkness powder?”
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“Yep, just the same way. You can see right through the
Peruvian Darkness Powder. The glasses only last for two weeks
before they need to be replaced, and I believe that they’ll fit right
over your glasses as well, Harry.” He handed a pair to Harry who
put them on. “See, perfect fit.”
“That’s quite the sales pitch you two have,” Ron
responded in surprise.
“I have, you mean. I taught George everything he
knows,” Fred replied.
“Hogwash. You wouldn’t have gotten this far without
me,” George retorted.
“With all of you just stop talking, please,” Mundungus
complained. “You don’t even need to ask where the locket is. I’ll
tell you if you just stop bothering me, and give me one of those
pairs of glasses.”
“Sorry, Mundungus. We just can’t do that. The glasses
are prototypes. We can, however, offer you a free box of can-
dies.” Fred handed Mundungus a box of Nosebleed Nougat and
Fainting Fancies.
Mundungus grumbled to himself, “Fine, at least this
hasn’t been a total loss.”
Just as Mundungus was about to have a piece of
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Nosebleed Nougat, Fred stopped him. “I’m sorry, Mundungus,

but we can’t let you eat in the store. Feel free to dig in when you
get home.”
“Okay, okay, no harm done.” He cleared his throat. “I
haven’t sold the locket. It is sitting in my room at The Guild.”
“The Guild?” Harry asked.
“The Thieves Guild, Harry. They are located somewhere
in Knockturn Alley, but no one can find them because their
guild is unplottable, and their secret keeper will only tell poten-
tial members where the guild is. If you don’t join the Guild,
they kill you. It is a simple as that, and unfortunately, fairly
common, so I’ve heard.” Hermione looked up as she finisher
her explanation.
“And I suppose you got that from Hogwarts, A History,”
Ron joked.
“No, I came across it when we were searching for infor-
mation on Nicolas Flamel,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“That was from our first year,” Ron exclaimed.
“I know, but wouldn’t you remember if you read about
the Thieves Guild, Ron?”
“Wait, Hermione. You said that you knew about The
Guild’s location, you would have to join or you would die. How
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are we supposed to get in there?” Harry asked.

“George, do you still have any Peruvian Darkness
Powder?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, loads. Why, what are you getting at?”
“Get all of your Peruvian Darkness Powder and get
Mundungus a pair of Lumos glasses. Mundungus is going to
take Harry, Ron and me into the hideout.”
“And us,” Fred replied, pointing to his brother who was
at a nearby shelf. “We’re coming too. We’ll take care of the pow-
der; you just get back your heirloom. It’s high time we do a bit
of mischief.” Fred smile wolfishly. “Lead the way, Dung.”
The walk was surprisingly short, and it was far more
pleasant because the exhausted wizards could see the streets
through the glasses. Harry recognized the alleyway he had
chased Borgin down just a week or two before. Mundungus
turned and began to walk down it. When he reached a red,
oaken barrel he stopped.
“Why are we stopping?” Ron whispered to Hermione.
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but be ready for anything.”
She grabbed his right arm tightly with her left and pulled her
wand from her pocket.
Mundungus tapped the head of the oaken barrel three
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times. The wall came away, revealing a large inner hallway, illu-
minated brightly by chandeliers filled with candles. “Wow, this
place doesn’t look so bad,” Ron marveled. “This hall looks as
fancy as the one at Hogwarts.”
“Every penny of it stolen,” Mundungus boasted proudly.
“We have to go through the pub in order to get to my room, so
get your powder ready. If they catch me bringing you here they
are going to have all of our hides.” Fred and George loosened
the bags of Peruvian Darkness Powder.
Mundungus stepped into the room first, but it was empty,
except for the bartender. “Anything to drink, Mundungus?”
“Not tonight, thanks.” Fred and George threw the dark-
ness powder all around the room as they entered.
“Mundungus, where did you go?” the bartender asked.
“I’m just going into my room. The candles must have
blown out when I opened my door. I left the window open
again.”
“Bloody hell, Mundungus. That’s the third time you’ve
done that.” Mundungus did not answer. He recovered the
locket and showed it to Harry. Harry examined the locket care-
fully, making sure that it was real. Mundungus held up his bag
of candies, and quickly shooed them from the bedroom. Once
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the five former Hogwarts students reentered the main hallway,

they were greeted by an unpleasant surprise.
The hall was filled with thieves of all kinds, and none of
them looked happy to see five intruders in their midst. Before
they knew it, Fred and George were leading the way, throwing
Peruvian Darkness behind them every which way until they
could get out of the hall. They reached the door, but they could
not get it open.
Ron and Hermione turned around, frantically casting
Stunning Spells and Levicorpus in the hopes that they could
stop the thieves from reaching them. Harry was unable to get
the door open either. “Alohomora isn’t working. I’m blasting
it. Reducto!” Harry yelled, aiming his wand at the locked doors.
The door broke apart, and the five fugitives raced outside.
“Fred, George,” Harry began. “I think that you should
spend tonight at my house. I’m not sure that it is going to be
safe in Diagon Alley tonight.”
“Agreed,” they said in unison.
George continued, “Those thieves look pretty angry. I
suggest that we apparate out of here as soon as we can.”
“Just let me take one more look at the locket, and then
we’ll go.” Harry peered down into the locket that he held in the
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palm of his hand. On one side, there were no markings, just

smooth gold, but the other side bore the mark of Salazar Sly-
therin. “He gave us the right locket. Let’s go.”
164
Chapter Eleven
In Blackest Night
“Go on, Harry. Open it,” Ron urged before they went to
bed. Harry had given Fred and George the guest’s bedroom on
the floor below, and from their snores, they sounded as though
they were sleeping peacefully.
“I’m not sure that I should, Ron. Not with your broth-
ers here at any rate. Remember what Dumbledore said, that we
three were the only ones who were supposed to know about the
secret. I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll open it after they leave in
the morning.”
“We didn’t have an easy time of it two years ago, so I just
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thought that trying to open it tonight would be a good way to

get started,” Ron replied defensively.
“I think we should wait,” Harry answered with a yawn.
“Look, I’m exhausted, and you’re probably tired as well. We’ll
talk about this in the morning.” Harry turned away from Ron,
mumbling a “good night” into his pillow.
“G’night, Harry.”
Once he was sure that Ron was asleep, Harry lifted up
the locket and placed it carefully around his neck. He was never
going to let it out of his sight again, no matter what it meant.
* * *
Harry awoke to the smells of fresh eggs sizzling over the
cooking pan downstairs. He wiped at his eyes groggily and put
on his pair of glasses. Ron, it seemed, was still tired from last
night, and Harry saw no reason to wake him up.
“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione called as Harry
came down the stairs. “Care for a spot of breakfast?”
Harry shook his head no, muttering something about
how he was not hungry. “You should eat, Harry. Hermione is a
right good cook, she is. These eggs are even better than the ones
Mum makes when we visit,” George spat out between mouth-
fuls. “Ron’s one lucky devil.”
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Hermione blushed a deep red color, but continued to

cook as though nothing had happened. “Speaking of Ron,”
George continued. “Does he get up at the same time as you, or
do you just let him sleep all day?”
“I usually just sleep all day,” Ron replied, apparating
into view.
“How did you—”
“I was just waiting at the top of the stairs, Fred. I’m not
just a lazy lout you know. I do my fair share of the work as well.”
He turned away from his brothers. “So, what’s for breakfast?”
“Eggs,” Hermione answered back. The red from her
cheeks had come back with Ron’s appearance in the room. She
could not help thinking that Ron might have overheard what
Fred and George said earlier. In fact, some small part of her
hoped that he did.
“Sounds excellent,” Ron replied, as she handed him a
plate of eggs before returning to the stove. Hermione cracked
open two new eggs with a flick of her wand and watched them
begin to cook themselves. With another flick, the egg shells in
the bowl behind her disappeared.
Harry began to eat, but looked up when as soon as heard
Ron’s fork clatter against his plate. Ron’s eyes were locked on the
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locket. Harry quickly tucked it into his nightshirt, hoping to

deter Ron from bringing up the matter of the Horcrux.
“Hermione, the food was excellent,” George compli-
mented, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Really: top-notch,” Fred added. “We’ve got to go; work
awaits.” He and George bowed, turned around gracefully, and
were gone.
“What’d you have the locket around your neck for?”
Ron asked angrily. “You said that you didn’t want to try to open
it until the morning. Did you sleep with it on?” He glared at
Harry unsure whether his friend was clueing him in to all that
was going on.
Harry nodded slowly. “I didn’t try anything though,
honest. I just wanted to make sure that it never went out of
my sight. Don’t worry, it’s still safely sealed. I’ll try to open it
later.”
“I don’t think that we should try yet, Harry. We’ve got
to do a little more research about Horcruxes first,” Hermione
answered, shaking her head.
“Oh yeah, a whole lot of good that did us last time,”
Ron answered. “I mean, if they didn’t have the books at
Hogwarts, why would you think that they would have some in
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this house?”
“Hermione’s got a point, you know, Ron. Perhaps we
should wait just a little longer, you know, do a bit of research
before we get in over our heads. Dumbledore never said any-
thing about getting rid of Horcruxes. He just taught me what
they were and how to find them.”
“Our owls arrived this morning with the books we’ll
need for this year, so I think that we should pay a visit to
Flourish & Blotts,” Hermione said, always the eager student.
“Term starts tomorrow, and I see no reason not to get the read-
ing material. We don’t all need copies, but I think that it would
be good to try and learn the spells on our own, especially the
Defense Against the Dark Arts spells.”
“Agreed,” Ron mumbled through his last mouthful of
eggs.
“Fine by me. Maybe we can look for a book in Flourish
& Blotts that will have information on Horcruxes. As for cloth-
ing, we’re going to have to blend in with the Muggles a little
better if we are going to live in London. We’ll have to get some
Muggle clothes from the place next door to Madame Malkin’s.”
Harry looked down at his grimy nightclothes. “Maybe some
new pajamas as well.”
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“You two give me a hand cleaning the table and then go

get dressed. Hurry up. We want to get there early. We’ve got a
lot to do today.”
“She’s beginning to sound like my mother,” Ron whis-
pered to Harry as they walked up the stairs, a few minutes
later.
“More like your wife. You saw the way she blushed when
she saw you this morning.” Harry laughed when Ron turned
bright red himself. “Look, your faces even match.”
“Be careful, Harry Potter. I just might withdraw my
approval of your relationship with my sister,” he chided back.
After getting dressed, the two came back downstairs to
Hermione. “Take a look at the book list; it is rather short this
year:
Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 by Miranda Goshwak
Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
by Devon Impkin
Challenging Charms by Felonious Twit
Powerful Potions by Horace Slughorn
Advanced Transfiguration and Animagi by Fema Lita.”
“I wonder who they have to teach DADA this year,”
Harry pondered aloud.”
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“And I guess Professor Slughorn, or should I say, King

Slug has returned, and he is forcing us to buy his book. What
a surprise,” Ron commented bitterly.
“Oh, come off it, Ron. Slughorn just wanted to collect
us. You heard what he said about Sirius: wanting to have the
whole Black family set,” Hermione answered evenly.
“That’s true, but at least he thought that you were
worthwhile.” He turned away from them. “Let’s go to Diagon
Alley and get our books and clothes. I hear that the Muggle
Emporium is having a sale on baseball caps: ‘Keeps the sun off
your face just as well as even the best displacement spell’,” Ron
mimicked in a sing-song voice.
Soon Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived at Flourish &
Blotts. The shop was full of wizards running to and fro, last
minute shoppers purchasing schoolbooks before the Hogwarts
Express left the following morning. Hermione told Harry and
Ron to collect the five books and bring them back to her. She
would hold their place in line.
When Harry and Ron returned with the five books, Ron
asked, “Hermione, don’t you need more books? You are taking
more classes than we are.”
Hermione replied, “Well, you two are taking the
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only important classes anyway. I doubt I’m going to need

Arithmancy or Ancient Runes when I’m fighting He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“Maybe not Arithmancy, but I think the book on
Ancient Runes may be helpful with the Horcruxes,” Harry
replied, whispering the last few words. Hermione handed Harry
the books and walked away briskly to get the book. A few min-
utes later, she had returned with the book, a mixture of garbled
letters that were supposed to form words adorning the cover.
Harry quickly decided that it wasn’t worth the explanation to
find out what was left.
“Blast it, Ron,” Harry exclaimed. “I forgot to get my
galleons from the bank.”
“Sorry,” Ron blushed slightly. “Bill gave me a bag of
coins after the wedding. He said that he couldn’t find you, but
that he had withdrawn your money from Gringott’s for you
again. Apparently, the line at Gringott’s was even worse than last
year.” Ron pulled a bag out from the pocket of his pants. “Don’t
worry; every knut, sickle, and galleon is in there.”
“You’re the best, Ron.” Harry gave his friend a pat on
the back. “But next time, please tell me a little sooner. You
scared me half to death.”
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Finally, Harry paid for the books, his coin purse becom-
ing considerably lighter as he did so, and Ron and Hermione
followed him out of the store. “We’re going to have to get some
Muggle clothing now,” Hermione began. “And then I think we
should go home for a bit of practice.” Upon hearing a groan
from Ron, she nodded fervently. “Just because we are no lon-
ger in school doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t keep learning. If
You-Know-Who comes our way, we have to be ready for him.
Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Harry and Ron replied, nodding their heads
quickly.
The Muggle Emporium was a large store with a very
small selection. The owner, Callan Amaranta, seemed unable
to understand that the styles of Muggle clothing changed about
as often as the seasons. Most of her selection was Victorian
clothing, puffy dresses and uncomfortable corsets, but in the
back was a small selection of baseball caps. Harry whispered to
Ron and Hermione, “Let’s each get a cap, and then get out of
here. They don’t have anything that wouldn’t attract attention.
Hermione, I think we are going to have to ask your parents to
send us clothing. You should send them an owl tonight.”
“Fine with me,” Ron replied. “I don’t even want one
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of these.” He looked inside the brim of one of the caps and

through the cap aside in disgust. “Who’s ever heard of the New
York Yankees anyways? Doesn’t she have any Chudley Cannons
hats?”
The three left without purchasing anything, and in mild
annoyance returned home. “Hermione, I think that you should
compose that letter as soon as possible. Pig will fly it; Hedwig
will be too conspicuous.” Harry handed her a piece of parch-
ment and a quill from the dining room table. “Ron and I are
going to unpack the books. I really want to see what we would
be learning in DADA this year.”
“I don’t know what I should say,” Hermione replied. “I
can’t just lie to them.”
“Sure you can,” Ron replied. “It’s easy. Fred and George
did it to Mum all the time. Just tell your parents that Hogwarts
plans on taking us on a number of trips this year and that we
need more Muggle clothing in order to not be noticed.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione had finished her letter.
“Here.” She held the letter up for Harry and Ron to read. “I
think that it will do just fine.”
Dear Mum and Dad,
I’ve just received word from school that we are
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going to be going on numerous trips this year, and that

we need a lot of Muggle clothing. Harry, Ron and I have
outgrown most of our clothing, or it has gotten to old, and
we need you to purchase some clothing for us. Please reply
by owl. Pig will wait for your reply.
Love,
Hermione
“Perfect, Hermione,” Ron commented, entirely unsur-
prised. “The letter is wonderful.” Harry rolled his eyes at his
friend.
“Listen,” Harry began, not even bothering to comment
on Hermione’s letter. “I’ve been reading the DADA book and
the Charms books, Challenging Charms, and the material seems
really difficult. Are we going to be able to do this without the
professors?”
“It is not a matter of whether we will be able to or not.
We have to learn the material without them. We cannot return
to Hogwarts just yet, and in the meantime, You-Know-Who
grows more powerful.” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm tightly.
“So what would you like to learn today?”
“Well, I found this spell that will cause vines to sprout
from your wand towards your opponent. Apparently, the core of
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the wand affects the properties of the vine that emanates from
the wand. Unicorn hair causes the vines to be made of silver,
and the book says that it is good against Werewolves. It prob-
ably won’t kill one, but the werewolf would be unable to break
out of its binds.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ron replied. “It looks like my
wand might do us some good after all.”
“What does it say about phoenix feather or dragon
heartstring?” Hermione asked.
“It doesn’t have any information about phoenix feather,
but it says that dragon heartstring works like a stupefy spell,
stunning the person that it binds. Depending on the power of
the wizard that wields the wand, it may cause mild burns as well.
Let’s try these out on something inanimate, perhaps a chair.”
“How does it go?” Ron asked Harry.
“Viteus adligo,” Harry replied, careful to point his wand
at the table. Some spells were temperamental, and it would not
be good to hit Ron or Hermione without knowing what his
wand would do. “It says to retract the vines, just respond viteus
retexo. This shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Do you mind if I go first?” Hermione asked, pulling
out a chair from the table. “Viteus adligo,” she shouted, and
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fiery vines flew out from her wand, quickly wrapping themselves
around the chair. “It worked!” she exclaimed.
“Hermione, we’re very happy for you, but would you
please retract the vines from the chair and put out the fire you’ve
just created,” Harry replied grimly. “We can only live in this
house if it hasn’t burned down.”
“Right, sorry. Viteus retexo,” she shouted, and the vines
retracted back into her wand. “Aqua erupto.” The flaming chair
was doused in water, putting out the flame instantly. “You’re up
next, Ron.”
“Right, okay. Um…Viteus adligo,” he said, silvery
vines emerging from his wand and constricting the already
burnt chair. He smiled and looked to Harry and Hermione for
approval. “Viteus retexo,” he said again, returning the vines back
into his wand.
“Stand back guys. I’m not sure what my vines are
going to do, but whatever it is, it could be dangerous.” Ron
and Hermione moved back towards the stairs, each one stand-
ing to one side of the stairwell. “Viteus adligo,” Harry declared.
“Bright red, glowing vines sprouted rapidly from his wand,
binding themselves quickly to the chair. At first, nothing
strange happened, but soon, part of the vines began to darken,
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sprouting new vines from the darkened points. Harry watched

openmouthed as the vines began to consume the chair until the
whole of the chair was covered in vines. “They multiply, new
parts of the vine being born from other portions,” he muttered
breathlessly.
“Viteus retexo,” he whispered, still in shock from the
phoenix feather’s power. The vines darted quickly back into his
wand, throwing the chair down to the ground. The power of
the recoil of the vines threw him backwards towards the stairs.
The wand fell from his hand, and Slytherin’s locket landed on
his face.
“Can I see your locket, boy?” a voice from above him
asked.
“Could you repeat that?” Harry asked as he sat up. He
looked around for the voice but could not see where it was com-
ing from.
“I’d like to see your locket, if I may.”
“Who are you?”
“The portrait above your head. Phineas Nigellus, an
esteemed member of the Noble House of Black. Now show me
your locket, if you please.”
Harry stood up and showed the locket to Phineas. “The
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other side, if you please.” Harry turned the locket around. “Aha,
the mark of Salaazar Slytherin. I have seen this locket before.”
Hermione and Ron moved closer to the portrait. “Yes, I have
seen it around the neck of Regulus Black!”
“Wait, Regulus Black was in possession of the locket?”
Harry asked, mildly confused.
“Yes, exactly. Regulus was found dead in a small cabin
in the north. At the time, he was wearing the locket around
his neck. There were no signs of trauma in his passing, so the
Ministry immediately assumed that he was killed by Death
Eaters for betraying their cause. I, however, believe differently.
If the Death Eaters truly killed him, wouldn’t they have taken
Slytherin’s locket from him? The mark of Salaazar Slytherin is
not easily missed, and I’m sure that You-Know-Who would have
been happy to have had a relic from his past.”
“So, then why did he die?” Harry, asked, clearly intrigued
by what this meant.
“I believe,” Phineas Nigellus leaned closer for emphasis
and whispered, “the locket killed him.”
“But I still don’t see how Regulus came to be in posses-
sion of the locket in the first place, unless…”
“R.A.B., the person from then note in the fake locket,
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was Regulus Black!” Hermione exclaimed. “It all makes sense

now. Phineas, er, Professor Nigellus, what was Regulus’ middle
name?”
“Anson.”
“Regulus Anson Black. It just rolls off the tongue.” Ron
smiled. “And all this time he was right in front of our noses,
Regulus Anson Black.”
“Why do you think that the locket killed him?” Her-
mione asked. “It seems rather strange.”
“Because there was an imprint seared on his chest, an
imprint of the locket with the Slytherin symbol in the center.
It was bright red on its border, but in the center, was a green
snake. I saw it as Sirius carried his body past my painting, locket
and all.”
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Chapter Twelve
An Old Friend
“Open it, Harry,” Ron shouted as he shook Harry awake.

“If you’ve opened it, you’ve removed the Horcrux. Hermione
thought it up herself this morning.”
“Fine, fine,” he replied, fingering the locket absent-
mindedly. “Let me have a spot of breakfast first.”
Ron shrugged his shoulders and walked downstairs with
Harry. “You aren’t afraid of what it might do, are you?” Ron
asked.
“What do you mean, am I afraid? Of course I’m afraid.
I’m terrified. You saw what happened to Dumbledore’s hand
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after he removed the first Horcrux. It was withered, shrunken

and blackened.” He grabbed Ron’s shirt. “That could happen
to me.”
“Well, now that we’ve got that bid of frustration worked
out, you can bloody well let go of me now.” Harry released his
shirt. “You can open it after breakfast. Hermione’s made sausage.
She said that her parents used to make it every so often. It is
supposed to be a very popular Muggle food.”
“Dudley is very fond of sausage, if I remember correctly.
It makes you rather fat if you have too much of it.” Harry sat
down at the table. “Looks great, Hermione.”
“I thought you’d be tired of eggs, so I made sausage
instead.” Harry began to eat slowly, not quite sure what sausage
would taste like. The Dursleys just gave Harry a biscuit, often
stale, for breakfast each morning. But if Dudley could eat sau-
sage, it couldn’t be all that bad. “It’s good, but I think that I like
your eggs better.”
“I agree. It feels like I am eating a large glob of grease,
but a very good, large glob of grease,” he added hastily when he
saw the annoyed look on Hermione’s face.
“I hope you two enjoy my cooking now, because if that
criticism keeps up, you’ll be making your own meals.”
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“You have to admit, Harry,” Ron continued, still trying

to get back on Hermione’s good side. “Hermione does use excel-
lent cooking spells, top of the line, I’d say. The food almost seems
to cook itself.” Ron eyed the pots scrubbing themselves clean,
while the skillet moved itself around ever so slightly in order
to give the sausages a golden brown tint. Hermione refused to
smile, and Ron quickly decided to change the subject.
“So, Harry, he said tentatively, turning towards his
friend, “How about opening the locket now?”
“I’m not sure that I should just yet. I mean, we barely
know anything about Horcruxes.”
“You’re right, Harry. We know next to nothing about
Horcruxes, but you need to try anyway. Every day we wait is
another day that Voldemort grows in power. We’re here to help
you, Harry, and we will stand by you as you open the locket.”
Hermione finished her impassioned speech, looking to Harry
with pleading eyes.
“All right,” Harry sighed. “I’ll open it.” He closed his
eyes tightly, unsure of what would happen. He pulled at the
clasp of the locket, but it would not open. He opened his eyes
and looked about.
“Maybe you need more determination, Harry,”
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Hermione offered helpfully. “Perhaps one can only open the

object if he does not fear it.”
Harry pulled at the locket again, his brow creased in
fierce determination. Sweat built up on his palms, and his face
turned red as he held his breath. Moments later, the locket slid
from his hands and fell to the floor with a clatter. “It can’t be
done,” he said in disbelief. “It can’t be done.”
“Let me try,” Hermione offered. “I have an idea.” Harry
bent down and picked up the sealed locket. He slid it across
the table to Hermione and took a seat. “Maybe we just need to
apply more force to the object.” She slammed the hinge of the
locket down hard against the corner of the table.
“Hermione!” Harry leapt up and snatched the locket
away from her.
“Look at it, Harry.” Hermione pointed to the locket. “Is
it undamaged?” Harry nodded slowly.
“Hermione, pass me a sharp knife. I am going to try
to pry it open.” Hermione handed an old knife with an ornate
handle to Harry. Carved into it was the seal of the Black fam-
ily. Harry tried to slide the knife into the small space between
the sides of the locket, but the knife did not take hold. It slid
along the edge of the locket, ultimately slashing across Harry’s
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left arm.
Before Harry even had time to react, Ron yelled,
“Episkey!” and the thin line of blood closed up. “You see, Harry.
Just as I said. We’re here to stand by your side.” He turned
towards Hermione. “Do you think that the locket is encased in
magic, maybe even sealed by magic?”
Hermione nodded slowly. “It is possible. I guess that
makes perfect sense. I mean, clearly You-Know-Who would
have used magic to seal the locket, otherwise anyone would be
able to remove the Horcrux from it.”
“My Dad once told me about a trunk of phony amulets,
turns out they were just pendants with quartz in them, that
the Ministry confiscated from a vendor in Knockturn Alley.
The vendor opened the trunk with a certain spell, and when
he closed the trunk, it locked itself with the same spell. The
Ministry opened it rather quickly, but it was still a well-done
charm, at least, that’s what my Dad said. Perhaps that is how
the locket remains closed. There aren’t that many locking spells.
We’ll just have to find out which one will open the locket.”
“And that will get rid of the Horcrux as well, correct?”
Harry asked, looking to Ron hopefully.
“It might, Harry. But I doubt it,” Hermione interrupt-
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ed. “All we’ll probably manage to do is to get the locket open.

There is probably another spell that will destroy the Horcrux
inside. We’ll need to find that one in a book as well.”
“I’ll look in Challenging Charms,” Ron offered. “I think
I recall seeing a chapter on locking and unlocking spells when
I was flipping through it yesterday.” Ron walked into the living
room and sat down to read.
“Fine,” Harry replied, fingering the locket. “Hermione
and I will look through the house for more books. Sirius must
have left at least a few in the attic. I mean, we can’t have thrown
them all out when we did our spring cleaning two years ago.”
Hermione looked around carefully, making sure that
Ron was safely engrossed in his research and that he was out of
earshot before speaking. “Actually, Harry. I have something that
I have to do first.” Hermione stared at him pointedly, doing her
best not to act out of the ordinary. She was not keen on Ron’s
finding out exactly what she was about to do, and if Harry asked
what she was up to, Ron was likely to hear.
Harry took the hint, and replied, “Fine. Do whatever
you need to do. Just come up to the attic when you’ve finished.”
He looked over to his friend, not wanting to give Herminoe
away. “Ron, we’ll be back in an hour. If you can’t find anything,
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don’t worry. We’ll find a way to open that locket.”

Harry darted upstairs, knocking aside the cloth covering
the portrait of the matriarch of the Black family. Free at last, she
screamed loudly, “I smell a Mudblood in this house! A filthy
Mudblood! What have you done, Sirius, bringing this scum,
this lowlife—”
Harry quickly threw the cloth back on top of the paint-
ing. “Sirius,” he whispered, pulling aside part of the cloth.
“Sirius Black.” Tear welled up in his eyes, but he would not
release them. “Sirius Black is dead.” He walked the rest of the
way slowly, his head towards the ground, his mind wandering
on what could have been, and what was.
“Alohomora,” Harry said softly, unlocking the padlock
that held up the trapdoor to the attic. A ladder slid down swiftly,
stopping only inches before it hit the ground. Harry remem-
bered entering the attic to clean with his godfather Sirius just
two summers before. It was much more organized now, books
placed neatly on shelves and old parchment carefully stowed
away in trunks of varying sizes. Old owl cages were clumped
together in one corner of the attic, Kreacher’s old bed stood in
another. The stale smell, however, had not dissipated.
Harry slowly approached the bookshelf, looking around
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him cautiously. Even though he knew that he had sent Kreacher

to Hogwarts the previous year, he still supposed that the foul
creature could arrive at any moment. Dobby had a tendency to
do that, he reminded himself, but only because he hated his master
and liked me. Kreacher hates me too, but I think that for him, an
order is an order. Silently, Harry lit the two oil lamps on either
side of the bookshelf, sending dancing rays of light throughout
the room.
Harry pulled the first book off the shelf, and put it back
on the shelf almost as quickly. He was relatively certain that
A History of House-elves and Their Many Uses would not hold
any information of relevance. He momentarily considered hid-
ing the book, knowing full well that Hermione would go on a
full force S.P.E.W. tirade once she saw the history, but Harry
thought the better of it.
Harry moved down the shelf, and with each passing
book felt that his search was more and more hopeless. It was
not until he came upon the third book of the second row that
he found a title that could possibly yield results. Harry flipped
rapidly through the pages of Desire for the Dark Arts: A Guide
to the Power and Majesty of Pain. “Horcruxes, Horcruxes,” he
mumbled to himself as he searched through the index. “Ah,
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Horcruxes, pages 397 to 403.”

“You found something, Harry?”Hermione asked as he
reached the top of the ladder.
“Yes, have a look at it. I think that some of the text is
missing. The page has been torn in some places, so I’m not sure
that all the text is here.” Hermione looked puzzled, clearly won-
dering how Harry could not tell if words were missing. “Most of
it seems to be in Ancient Runes, but there is a bit of information
on Horcruxes in standard English. What I’ve gathered so far is
just what Dumbledore explained to me, how a Horcrux is made,
and the like; however, it appears that the bulk of the informa-
tion, maybe even the spells necessary to create and destroy
Horcruxes are in runes.”
“I’ll get right on it. I don’t know enough to just read
runes from memory, but I’ve got a dictionary and my textbook.
That should be enough.” She started back down the ladder, but
Harry grabbed her arm tightly.
“What were you doing before? Why couldn’t you come
up here to help me straight away?”
She climbed back up the later, handing the book to
Harry once more. “I wrote a letter to Viktor.”
“Krum? You haven’t still been keeping in touch with
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him, have you? Ron likes you, and you can’t just betray him like
this. You can’t.”
“It was nothing like that at all, Harry.” She tried to calm
him down.
“Then what is it like?” Harry replied angrily.
“Viktor went to Durmstrang for seven years. I just
wanted to know if hew knew anything about Advanced Dark
Magic.”
“You mean Horcruxes. You told Viktor about the
Horcruxes. Dumbledore said not to tell anyone.”
“But we had no choice, Harry. We were at our wits’ end.
I was hoping that Viktor would know something, and that he
would come here and be of some use to us. We can’t complete
this alone. When Dumbledore was alive the secret had to have
been kept a secret, but I trust Viktor, and I think that I have
made the right choice.”
“You should have consulted me first. You were blinded
by your beliefs that Voldemort would not initiate a sixteen year-
old Death Eater, but he did. Who’s to say that you understand
Krum well enough now? You haven’t seen him in two years.”
“Let’s go downstairs, Harry. What’s done is done. You
will see that I have made the right choice. I was wrong once, but
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I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Fine, but I’m telling Ron that you wrote Viktor as soon
as we get downstairs. He needs to know.”
“No! Harry, I’ll tell him.” She slid down the ladder, and
Harry followed her. Both were eager to reach the living room
as quickly as possible. When they arrived, they saw Ron reading
the newly arrived edition of The Daily Prophet.
“Anyone we know died?” Harry asked nonchalantly,
all thoughts of Viktor Krum banished from his mind for the
moment.
“No, but read this. It appears that without the Dementors,
security at Azkaban has become completely inadequate.”
Known Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy,

Escapes from Azkaban
Lucius Malfoy, known Death Eater,

and long time servant of He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named, escaped from
Azkaban prison late last night. Ministry
officials have attempted to keep a
lid on the details, but even Rufus
Scrimgeour seems unable to exert con-
trol over his staff. It appears that no
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one was killed, although one Ministry

guard is currently at St. Mungo’s for
treatment and appears to be in critical
condition. His name has been with-
held at the Ministry’s request. One
Ministry Auror who was patrolling
Azkaban that night thought that he
saw Draco Malfoy, Lucius’ son, with
a tall man, skinny man before he was
knocked unconscious by pain from
the Cruciatus Curse.There is suspicion
that Severus Snape, former Hogwarts
professor assisted Lucius in his escape.
Currently, Lucius, Draco, Narcissa,
and Snape remain at large, and are
extremely dangerous. If you possess
any pertinent information regarding
the whereabouts of these criminals,
contact the Auror office at the Ministry
immediately.
“So Lucius Malfoy has evaded the Ministry once again,”

Harry sighed. “At least no one was killed in the process.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think that this bodes well for the
Ministry at all. If they can’t keep their prisoners in Azkaban,
what’s the point of even having a prison at all? The Wizengamot
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might as well just try the Death Eaters and set them free once
more,” Hermione added bitterly. “It is interesting that no one
was killed. That is usually not the Death Eater’s style.”
“But it is Draco’s. Dumbledore said that Malfoy was
no killer, and he was right. Malfoy was just about to lay down
his wand before the other Death Eaters arrived at the rooftop.
Draco had all that time to kill Dumbledore, but he couldn’t.
Even then, it took Snape to finish the job.” Harry spat out
Snape’s name angrily. “I bet the guard was right. No other Death
Eater has felt so queasy about killing before.”
“What’s that you’re holding?” Ron asked Harry, eager to
change the topic to one less upsetting.
Harry cleared his throat and began to read in an overly
dramatic voice. “Desire for the Dark Arts: A Guide to the Power
and Majesty of Pain. It apparently has some new information
on Horcruxes.”
“Apparently?” Ron asked, mystified.
“Well, the majority of the information is in the form of
Ancient Runes, which are, unfortunately, not exactly my strong
point.” He smiled helplessly. “Hermione said she could figure it
out though.”
Ron nodded. “Excellent. I’m afraid to say that Chal-
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lenging Charms had almost no information on locking and

unlocking spells. I mean, the best that I’ve got is effringo, but
the book says that is only used to break open the lock. It’s got
some complicated wand movements associated with it as well.
We’ll have to give it a go later.”
There was an awkward pause in the conversation.
“Hermione, don’t you have something to tell Ron?” Harry
began, remembering once more the important issue that had
yet to be resolved.
“Oh yes, Harry. I believe I do.” She turned towards
Ron. “Ron, I thought that we needed more help in finding out
how to open Horcruxes, so I invited Viktor Krum to help us,
for now.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “You invited Krum, here? Hermione,
you still have feelings for him don’t you?” He looked away from
her angrily. “How could you do this? I thought—it doesn’t mat-
ter what I think anyway. Harry, did you know?”
“Hermione just told me in the attic. Listen to what she
has to say, Ron, before you make your decision.”
“Ron, I know that you’re angry, but I think I made the
right choice.”
“What choice? Him over me?”
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“No, it’s not like that at all. Dumbledore was vehe-

mently opposed to the Dark Arts. We never got our hands on
them during school, and the most evil books were banned from
the library. Viktor went to Durmstrang. He didn’t take Defense
Against the Dark Arts; he took Applied Dark Arts. Don’t you
see, Ron? He may know something of Horcruxes. Now that
Dumbledore is gone, we can’t do this alone. I trust Viktor, and
we need his help.”
“I don’t like this,” Ron replied.
“Ron,” Hermione said firmly, grabbing his hands.
“There is nothing between us now.” She bent down and kissed
him firmly on the mouth. Harry looked away quietly, under-
standing that everything was going to change.
195
Chapter Thirteen
The Greater of Two Evils
“Father,” Draco whispered, “The Dark Lord wishes to

see you once more.” Draco trembled slightly at the thought, but
knew full well that he had finished his job for his Master once
again. This time had been easier than the time with Borgin.
Borgin had to be killed, annihilated, but this time, Draco smiled
pleasantly, no one had died when he freed his father. Sure, the
Prophet said that someone was injured, but injuries could be
healed. What mattered to Draco was that no one had died.
“Don’t worry, Draco. I’m sure that he just wishes to
congratulate me on my escape, and perhaps even give me a new
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task to accomplish. Now that I am free, I can rejoin his service

and help to defeat that nasty Potter boy and that insolent Order.
Then, only then, will the Dark Lord be free to rule the world.
Muggles will cower in their beds, those that are still alive, that is,
and the Ministry of Magic will be replaced by the Death Eaters
and their Master. Once again, I will stand by the Dark Lord’s
side.”
“But, father, he asked to see mother as well.” Draco
looked over at Narcissa Malfoy, her frail body shivering in the
cold night air.
“Narcissa, but why?” Lucius’ face glinted with a startling
realization. “Oh, I see. Does he wish to see you as well?”
“He just told me to take you to him, father. Whether I
shall stay for your meeting or not, I’m not sure. If it is some-
thing important, I’m sure that he will want me there to help you
in any way that I can.”
“And Severus? Does the Dark Lord wish Severus to be
there as well?” Lucius asked, trying to hide his fear in his ques-
tions.
“I do not know, father. Is something troubling you? You
are free now, free to help the Dark Lord take over the world.
Whatever it is, Professor Snape will surely help us. He worked
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with me to free you from prison. I see no reason why he will

not help us now.”
“There will be no help against the wrath of the Dark
Lord,” Narcissa interrupted, her lip quivering as she spoke. “I
do not think that he would like to speak to your father to con-
gratulate him, Draco. I think that he would like to kill him for
his failures.”
Draco looked stunned for a moment. He was unable to
speak, almost as though someone had glued his tongue to the
roof of this mouth. “D-d-do you think the Dark Lord means to
kill us?” he sputtered, trembling in fear. “I have done nothing
but what he’s asked.”
“He means to kill Narcissa and me,” Lucius replied.
“And if I am not mistaken, he most likely will kill you as well.
That is the way the Dark Lord goes about these things. First the
father, then the mother, and finally, the child.”
“Then let’s flee,” Draco replied in earnest. “Just before
Professor Snape killed him, Dumbledore said that the order
could protect us, could hide our entire family. Maybe they will
still do that now if they see that we have been pushed from the
darkness into the light.”
“There is no way that they would help us,” Narcissa
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replied, eyes welling up in tears. “You helped kill Dumbledore

and destroy the Order. The Phoenix has fallen. There are a
few loyal members of the Order remaining, but they are disor-
ganized. There is no way that they can protect us now. We’re
doomed.”
“We can still run, mother. They won’t be able to find
us,” Draco replied desperately. He knew in his heart that it was
not true, but he was racking his brains to find some way of help-
ing his parents, and possibly himself, in escaping their fate.
“Come on, Draco. The Dark Lord found Regulus Black
almost as soon as he deserted, we believe. He may have died of
some other cause, but the Dark Lord has always taken credit for
his death. Karkaroff, the other Death Eater who abandoned the
Dark Lord, survived for a whole year until the Dark Lord found
him and killed him. He fled north, and he was just one person.
Think how much harder it would be to hide all three of us.”
“But if it can be done, father, we must try. The Dark
Lord will kill you now, but if we can escape we may live longer.
He may never find us, but if he does, will we be any worse off
than before?”
“I understand you all two well, my son. Now we face a
most certain death, but if we escape we may survive. I would
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like to agree, but there are too many Death Eaters for us now
to overcome—not to mention that a Werewolf could sniff us
out up north, a Giant would tear apart nearby houses just to
find us, and a Dementor would be happy to perform the kiss.
Now we stand no chance of escape. Karkaroff had a year when
the Death Eaters were at their weakest. The Dark Lord has too
many allies.”
“So you just propose that we face him. You want us to
put our life in his hands. He could kill us any moment that
we are with him or put us under so much pain that we can no
longer think clearly. Do you really want to take that chance, or
rather, accept what we believe to be our fate?”
“Your lives are already at his mercy, Malfoys,” Snape
interrupted as he entered the room. “The Dark Lord expects
you to meet him in ten minutes. It would be wise not to dis-
appoint him at this juncture, for he does not seem to be any
angrier than he has been for the past month.”
“Are you to accompany us to the Dark Lord, then?”
Narcissa asked, clearly resigned to her fate.
“No. I’m just here to make sure that you do the right
thing.” Snape smiled cruelly.
“So the Dark Lord already suspects that we may flee,”
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Narcissa suggested before either Lucius or Draco could prevent

the incriminating words from leaving her mouth. Realizing
what she had just said, she covered her mouth quickly, but it
was too late.
“The Dark Lord suspects nothing as far as I can tell. It
was I who believed that you might try to escape the Dark Lord
before this meeting. You have nothing to fear, however. I do not
believe that he has any intention of killing you,” Snape contin-
ued, voicing their fears. “At least not yet. Rather, he has another
task that it may take all three of you to accomplish. That is what
he implied before I left.” Snape did his best to sound convinc-
ing, but Lucius was not so easily fooled.
“He means to kill us, then?” Lucius asked.
“It is possible,” Snape replied. The Malfoys looked to
each other in fear. “But, he may not do so if you show bravery
and meet with him.”
“Fine,” Lucius answered. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere, Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord will come to
you.”
“When?” Draco asked, more afraid now than ever.
“He shall arrive momentarily. If you would all step out-
side please.” Snape and the three Malfoys moved outside the
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small house. Crack. A shadowy figure appeared suddenly and

began to speak.
“Very good, Severus,” the Dark Lord began. “You may
leave now. I would like to speak to the Malfoys alone.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Severus Snape smiled to the Malfoys,
turned on the spot and disapparated from view.
“My Lord, it is so good to see you once more,” Lucius
began timidly.
“Silence!” Voldemort shouted. “Don’t you dare speak to
me, Lucius.”
“But, My Lord,” Lucius began again.
“Be quiet! How have you failed me so miserably, Lucius?
You were among my best Death Eaters, my best followers, but
now, now you are nothing but a failure.”
“My Lord, that is not so.”
“Oh, isn’t it? You were captured in the Ministry and
failed to recover the prophecy for your master, a prophecy to
which I only know the first half.”
“My Lord, the Order arrived and there was nothing we
could do.”
“The Order, the Order. Lucius, Severus Snape killed
Dumbledore. There is no more Order. Snape killed Dumbledore,
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and you are telling me that you couldn’t handle a few pesky
Ministry officials and that nuisance Harry Potter.” His voice
took on a much lighter tone. “Ah, you wisely keep your mouth
shut about my failed attempt at killing Potter myself, even
when I had him so firmly in my grasp. But I know that you
think it.” Voldemort tapped his head with the tip of his wand.
“Legilimancy. Thought is almost as bad.”
“My Lord, I think no such thing.”
“You lie, Lucius. Don’t lie to me.” Voldemort raised his
wand in anger, and Lucius feared what might come next.
“I’m sorry, My Lord. I couldn’t help myself. The
thought slipped into my mind. It was a moment of weakness. It
won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not, Lucius. Not just for your sake, but
for the sake of your family as well. I’d hate to see your wife sud-
denly burst out in pain.” Voldemort licked his lower lip, and
turned sideways, facing Narcissa with his entire wrath.
“My Lord, what would you have me do?” Lucius asked,
determined to keep Voldemort’s wrath away from his wife.
“Nothing, not any more. Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort
shouted. Lucius collapsed to the floor.
Narcissa screamed amidst a downpour of her tears, “My
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husband! You killed my husband!”

“Yes.At least he won’t see you whither away in pain.
Crucio.” Narcissa Malfoy began to writhe on the floor in pain,
her body convulsing with each jab of the wand.
“Draco,” she uttered softly, barely able to speak. “Run.
Save yourself.”
“But mother,” Draco replied, torn between saving his
own life and staying with his mother.
“Run! Be safe, Draco,” she whispered in her dying
breath. Before she had even finished speaking, Draco was out
the door. Voldemort whipped around, pointed his wand towards
the door and cried, “Avada Kedavra!” Draco dove to the side, the
green blast narrowly missing him.
“Come back here, traitor. Face me, Draco. Your mother
and father are dead. If you run now, I’ll—Avada Kedavra—find
you.” Draco leapt aside, but the blast was nowhere near him
this time.
Draco turned around, and with a loud crack, disappeared
from view. Nagini, Voldemort called softly in Parseltongue. The
snake slithered towards its master. Find Draco Malfoy, and when
you do, I want you to kill him. Don’t fail me, Nagini. I need you
to kill him successfully. We can’t let him escape, my love.
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* * *
“Viktor said he would be here in just a few minutes,”
Hermione said, eyeing the letter in her hand carefully. It was
nearing two o’clock in the morning, the time at which Krum
promised that he would arrive.
“We should go outside. I haven’t told Krum where
we live, just in case. We can bring him inside as soon as he’s
arrived,” Harry responded.
“Fine, but I still don’t like this,” Ron added. “You might
say that you’re over him, but I don’t want to see those feelings
creeping back into your life again.”
“Don’t worry, Ron,”Hermione replied, rubbing his
shoulders. “Viktor and I just friends now. Let’s go outside. For
all we know he’s been pacing up and down the block looking
for us.”
Ron smiled at the thought. “Maybe we should just leave
him out there. I’m not too keen on having him here in the first
place.”
“Ron, you can’t just leave Viktor Krum, prized seeker
of the Bulgarian quidditch team outside in the middle of the
night,” Harry replied. “Let’s go bring him in.” Hermione
opened the door and walked outside. “And, Ron, don’t worry so
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much about Krum. Hermione likes you just the way you are,”
Harry added quietly.
“But what if ‘she likes him the way he is’ more?” Ron
asked half-mockingly, half in fear.
“She won’t,” Harry replied, and followed Hermione
outside. Ron, not wanting to leave Hermione alone with Viktor
Krum any more than he already had, stepped outside as well.
“Vell, if it isn’t Harry Potter,” he greeted warmly. “And
Ronald Weasley. Is that correct?” He looked over at Hermione
expectantly, but she offered him no help.
“Vell, I was just telling Her-my-oh-nee,” he began,
pronouncing her name very slowly and carefully. Ron could
not help but smirk at how ridiculous Krum sounded when he
pronounced Hermione’s name. “I am very happy to see you all.
I have missed you all so terribly, especially you, Her-my-oh-
nee.”
Hermione blushed briefly, but upon seeing the horror in
Ron’s face, she quickly changed the subject. “Viktor, we need
your help.”
“Yes, that is vat you were explaining to me in the letter,”
he responded in a thick accent. “But vat is this help that you
need?”
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“Horcruxes!” Ron blurted out, eager to assert his posi-

tion in the conversation. He did not like the looks that Krum
was giving Hermione every other word. “Come in and have a
cup of tea. Harry will explain everything.” Harry nodded to
Krum, and beckoned him to come inside.
“Make yourself comfortable. Hermione will make the
tea while we sit in the living room. Ron, why don’t you give her
a hand?” Harry knew that Ron would desperately wanted this
opportunity to see whether Hermione was falling for Viktor
once more.
“Good idea, Harry.” Hermione rose from her seat
eagerly. She flashed a bright smile at Ron, grabbed his hand, and
pulled him into the kitchen after her.
Viktor Krum looked away indiscreetly, and asked Harry,
“So are she and Ron together now?” Harry nodded. “Good for
him. He’s got a vonderful girl. Don’t vorry, Harry. I have a fian-
cée. She is a nice Bulgarian girl. Come to the vedding; I’ll send
you an invitation. Ve’d be very happy if you came.”
“I’d like that very much, Viktor. But I need to get back
to the matter at hand. Do you know anything of Horcruxes?”
Viktor shook his head slowly. “Not very much. My
teacher at Durmstrang only told us briefly of them. Although
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they have many books on them in the library, ve vere not

encouraged to read them. I think that Karkaroff still felt a bit
guilty for being a Death Eater.”
“Well, his guilt finally caught up with him. Now, you
say that there are many books on Horcruxes. Hermione, Ron,
and I need to read those books.”
“Vhy, so you can make Horcruxes for yourselves?”
Viktor asked in horror.
“No, Viktor. We do not want to make them for our-
selves. We want to, we need, to destroy them in order to defeat
Voldemort.” Just as Harry expected, Krum shuddered at the
name. “We do not know where Durmstrang is, but you do.”
“And you vant me to take you?”
“Yes, all three of us. We need to find those books, and
quickly.”
“Fine, but ve must go in secret. The Halls of Durmstrang
vill not velcome visitors kindly. Ve have many secrets that ve vish
to protect.”
“Thank you, Viktor. I wonder what it taking them
so long with the tea. If you will excuse me, I’ll just be a
moment.” Harry walked briskly into the kitchen to find Ron
and Hermione’s lips locked together. Harry cleared his throat
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loudly. “I think Viktor is getting thirsty.” Hermione quickly car-

ried the tea into the living room. “Ron, I’m going to bed. Stay
up with Hermione and Krum and make sure they get some rest
tongiht as well. Tell Viktor that we have a guest room for him.
G’night.”
“Good night, Harry,” Ron replied as he burst through
the door and sat down on the couch beside Hermione. Harry
laughed to himself lightly as he walked up the stairs to his
room.
* * *
Lord Voldemort walked confidently to the front door
of the ruined orphanage. The walls had deteriorated from what
they once were when he was a boy. The blue plaster had fallen
off the outside of the building, revealing the naked brickwork
of the wall. It even looked different than when he was last there,
nearly twenty years ago.
He smiled unkindly at the front door. He remembered
the rude awakening of just three days ago when he found that
his locket was missing. Slytherin’s locket, a Horcrux that held
part of his soul was missing, and he had no idea where it was.
He feared that Albus Dumbledore had taken it and had it
destroyed. His suspicions had been confirmed that someone was
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destroying his soul when the ring in the Gaunt House was gone
as well. Only one Wizard could have gotten through so many
layers of protection, and now he was dead. There was nothing
for Voldemort to fear, but at the same time, there was more to
fear than ever before.
For the first time, he realized that he could not feel the
loss of part of his soul. He felt the same as he had before upon
the discovery that Lucius Malfoy’s foolishness was responsible
for the destruction of the diary. He did not feel the change when
Dumbledore, for it could only have been Dumbledore, he rea-
soned, destroyed the Gaunt ring. And because of this, he could
not foresee whether the Horcrux contained within his Salazaar
Slytherin’s locket had been destroyed as well.
So now he stood before the orphanage where he was
raised, where Hufflepuff ’s Cup, another one of his Horcruxes
was kept. If they destroyed too many pieces of his soul, he would
become mortal again, and Voldemort was determined not to let
that happen. If the Horcrux has been removed, it just means that
I will have to kill Harry Potter that much sooner, he thought to
himself bitterly.
Recently, he had tried to delve into Harry’s mind, but
he was met with little success. Some part of Harry was keeping
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a tighter hold on his memories, and Voldemort was having a

harder time sifting through Harry’s mind. Voldemort also knew,
with deep regret, that if he spent too much time in Harry’s
mind, the bond between their minds might last: forever. He was
able to find out that Harry had the Horcrux, but he could not
tell whether it had been destroyed. In Tom Riddle’s experience
at the orphanage, there was no benefit in hoping for the best.
As far as Lord Voldemort could guess, Slytherin’s locket was
effectively lost to him, as well as a part of his soul.
He opened the door quietly, kneeling slightly as he
went through. The hex that was aimed at whoever entered the
doorway missed his head by a few inches, slamming harmlessly
against a tree in the yard. He felt about the dark room with
his hands, searching for the magic that would lead to the next
room. Upon finding the spot, he reached into a wall and pushed
his hand through. He grabbed the lever tightly and pulled it
towards himself in a hard and fast motion.
A door slid through the floor, revealing a large wardrobe
in the next room. Hepzibah Smith would have killed for this level
of security, he whispered to himself in parseltongue. He traced
his finger along the edge of the wardrobe carefully, and then
spoke, in Parseltongue once more, Helga Hufflepuff, open this
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door. The door to the wardrobe creaked upon quickly, and the
door was consumed in flames. Voldemort looked inside, saw that
the cup was still there, and turned around, satisfied. He left the
way he came, confident that he would live forever. Dumbledore
was gone, and no other Wizard could take this Horcrux from
its resting place. Voldemort was certain of that much, and it
would be far better to leave it where it was safe than to carry it
with him. One never knew when a foolish Death Eater would
carelessly throw a piece of his soul away.
* * *
“Good morning, Harry.” Hermione roused him from
his bed. “Krum says that we have to get going if we want to
reach Durmstrang by nightfall. You can’t apparate within the
ground of Durmstrang either, and their grounds are four times
as large as Hogwarts’. Krum says we should bring brooms. We
can’t use them if it is too windy, but if not, it will shorten our
trip by a lot.”
“I’m not going with you,” Harry answered groggily.
“Of course you are. Viktor told us the plan last night.
We’ve got to recover some books on Horcruxes.”
“Hermione, I had a vision last night. I know where
Voldemort is keeping Hufflepuff ’s Cup. He went there last
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night to check up on it. I’m going to retrieve it today, while you

are at Durmstrang. Go with Ron and Krum. Everything will be
fine, and we’ll talk when I get back.”
“We can’t let you go to get a Horcrux without us. It
could be highly dangerous.”
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Harry answered smugly.
“Lord Voldemort showed me exactly what to do. It won’t even
be difficult. He showed me how to reach the Horcrux, every
step, every flick of the wand, every word I needed in Parsel-
tongue.
“I still don’t like this,” she replied, shaking her head.
“I know, but listen, there isn’t anything that we can real-
ly do about it right now. It doesn’t matter how many Horcruxes
I retrieve, unless I have some way of destroying them, and it
doesn’t matter how much information you have about Hor-
cruxes if I don’t have any in my possession to destroy. Have a
little faith, and we’ll have destroyed the Horcruxes before you
know it.”
As she reached the threshold of the door she turned
around and whispered, “Good luck, Harry.”
“And you as well, Hermione.”
213
Chapter Fourteen
The Halls of Durmstrang
“Are we there yet?” Ron asked, looking out at the bar-

ren plain before him. It was extremely cold, and it appeared as
though the snow that covered the mountaintops remained there
year-round. Most of the shrubbery looked dead, and the lake
nearby appeared to have frozen over. “It doesn’t look like much,
Viktor. I thought that the grounds would be beautiful.”
“I never said that they vere beautiful, Mr. Weasley,” he
replied sardonically. “I just said that they vere big. Don’t put the
vords into my mouth.”
“Why are we stopping then? Do you need a rest?”
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“No, although this vould not be a bad idea. Ve cannot

go any further by apparating, so I suggest ve take the brooms
and ve go from here. Ve do not have much time before it
becomes very dark.”
Ron looked at the sky. “It looks bright as day to me.
What time is it anyway?”
“Nearly noon,” Hermione replied. “But the sun comes
down much earlier here since we are so far north. During the
winter, I bet that they do not have very much sunlight at all.
Fortunately, we’ve still got another month before winter hits.”
“It sure feels like winter. I’m shivering under all my
clothing.”
“Here. I’ve brought some extra furs for you both. I
thought that you looked a bit undressed, even vith your jackets.”
Ron and Hermione took the coats gratefully.
“Hermione,” Ron whispered. “My sleeves are too long.
Could you shorten them a bit for me?” She flicked her wand
quickly and the sleeves shrunk to fit his arms. “Thanks.”
“Hop on,” Krum ordered as he got onto his broomstick.
“Ve haven’t much time before nightfall, and ve don’t vant to be
left outside after dark. Even though ve are in the air, it is still
possible to be attacked by a Graphorn. They cannot fly like ve
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can, but they have very long tusks. Ve need to stay near the
ground as it gets darker so that ve do not get lost on the way to
the school.”
“Get lost, Krum? You mean you’re not even sure where
the bloody place is?” Ron asked angrily. “What are we out here
for if you can’t even find Durmstrang? How many castles are
there in this place anyways?” He looked away for a second and
took a deep breath. “Sorry, Viktor. I was just getting a little
worried.”
“About going to Durmstrang or about me?” Ron stood
their silently. “Don’t vorry, Ron. I have a fiancée; I am not going
to try to take Hermione from you.”
Ron was visibly relieved, but he did his best not to show
it. “I see that you can pronounce her name.”
“I’ve gotten a lot of practice. There is not time to talk
of this now. Ve’ve got to get going; ve’ve vasted too much time
already.” He kicked off from the ground without waiting for Ron
and Hermione to follow. He circled them in the air until they
took off as well, and then they shot off towards Durmstrang.
After an uneventful trip, they arrived at Durmstrang just
as the sun was setting across the western sky. “Ve are not allowed
outside after the dusk has fallen, so ve should try to get inside
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before it becomes suspicious. The fur coats should be able to

keep you hidden, at least for now. As long as no one looks too
closely at Hermione, ve should be able to walk around unhin-
dered until ten at night. It is then that ve should sneak into the
library.”
“Fine, but let’s get inside already. It is freezing out here,”
Ron suggested. Viktor opened the door with a complicated
motion of his wand, and the doors to Durmstrang opened
with a loud scraping of gears. Krum ushered them into the hall
quickly, trying his best to avoid attention.
“You’d think that with the doors opening so loudly that
half the school would be looking at who just came through the
door,” Hermione said.
“Professor Karkaroff told me, before he died, of course,
that there is a sound-proof barrier between the door and the
hall. I think that if any of us said anything, or even shouted at
the top of the lungs, no one vould be able to hear vhat ve vere
saying.”
“Interesting. It is just like Muffliato, except that there is
no annoying buzzing that is heard by those around you. There
are a lot of people in the hallway right now, Viktor. Do you
think that we should try to blend in?” Hermione asked.
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“Yes, but while ve are around other people, you cannot

speak, Hermione. Not that I find your voice annoying, but it
vould be too obvious that ve vere not students if they heard your
voice.”
“But, Krum, if you are so famous, won’t someone realize
that you are not a student?” Ron asked.
“It is not a problem. I am allowed come to the school
vhenever I vish, but, I am no sure vhether I can bring the guests.
I don’t vant to find out. Ve’ll need to hide in the Owlery, at least
until everyone has gone to bed. But first, I vill secure us some
food from the kitchens. I believe that the house-elves are never
off duty.”
Hermione was about to scream at Viktor when Ron
pulled her shoulder. “Hermione, you can’t go on a S.P.E.W.
tirade now. We’ve already crossed over into the hallway; people
can hear us. And you scream like a girl,” he teased. She bared
her teeth at him angrily, but did not say a word.
Viktor knocked on the door to the kitchen. “Open up,
please. I vould like something to eat.” A short house-elf opened
the door without hesitation.
“What would you like, master?” she squeaked. “We have
some extra steaks from dinner and some potatoes.”
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“That sounds vonderful. I vould like three portions

please, and vould you allow us to eat inside the kitchen?”
“Oh yes, of course, master.”
“There is no need to call him ‘master’,” Hermione
chimed in, momentarily forgetting her need for a disguise. “My
name is Hermione and vhatis yours?”
“Flinty. Ah, your food is already. Please take a seat at
one of the tables.” Hermione and Ron were shocked to see the
state of the Durmstrang kitchen. Unlike the Hogwarts kitchen,
it was much smaller in size, and there seemed to be space only
for a dozen or so house-elves to work at once. Even though the
tables and countertops were pristine, the walls were cracked
and crumbling. Large sections of the plaster were starting to
chip away from the wall, some parts falling off the wall entirely.
Determined not to show their shock, however, they sat down to
eat without so much as the slightest fuss.
As Ron sunk his teeth into his steak, he was pleasantly
surprised by the taste. “It’s delicious, but it does not taste like
the steaks at Hogwarts. I’d say that it is just as good, if not even
better. It’s funny, because I thought that with the condition
of the walls that the food might not be that much better.” He
covered his mouth quickly, gasping audibly. Hermione, mean-
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while, had given him a piercing stare. “Not that I do not enjoy
the accommodations,” he added worriedly, hoping to prevent
house-elves from enduring further insults that could lead to a
desire for retaliation. Hermione’s angry eyes quickly returned to
their normal state as she too began to enjoy the delicious meal
that the house-elves had prepared.
“This is excellent,” Hermione commented once she had
finished eating. “I think that you should send these recipes to
Hogwarts.”
“I’m sorry, Hermione, but the recipe is one of the many
secrets of Durmstrang. Now that you know of the location of
the school, I cannot tell you anything more. I believe that I
should not have told you this much in the first place,” Viktor
answered evenly.
Hermione glanced at her watch. “Viktor, it is nearly
eight o’clock.”
“Vell, ve’ve got to get going then. The Owlery and the
library are near to each other, so the travel between the two loca-
tions should be very…easy.” He stood up from the table, and
pulled Hermione up after him. “This vay.” He led them out the
door, and they walked up the stairs briskly. “No one should be
sending letters at this time of night, so ve vill have no problem
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hiding out.”
Krum opened the door to the Owlery slowly, doing his
best not to attract attention to himself and his companions. The
door creaked loudly anyway, further emphasizing the age and
run-down conditions of Durmstrang. The three travelers slipped
inside, the smell of owl pellets overpowering their senses. Ron
grabbed his nose tightly. “Did your Owlery always smell this
bad?” Ron inquired nasally.
“It used to be better, but the school has become run-
down since the disappearance of Karkaroff. As soon as he left,
the building began crumbling, and I believe that they have
yet to bring in a new headmaster. That has only made matters
vorse.”
“I can see that. I cannot really understand why a school
would be better off with a former Death Eater as its headmas-
ter, but, apparently that is the case,” Ron replied sarcastically.
He was taking less and less of an interest in Durmstrang by the
minute. What had once seemed to have been an exciting pros-
pect, had soon become a chore in the dank, dark hallways that
were falling apart.
“If you do not like my school,” Krum replied, an anger
born out of loyalty coursing through his veins, “Then feel free
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to leave vhenver you vish. I am doing this for you.”

“All right, I’m fine. I was just saying how different it
was from Hogwarts,” Ron answered mildly, backing off from a
potentially heated confrontation with Krum.
Hermione, noticing that the conversation was headed
for disaster as well, intervened, “Viktor, I think it best that we
go over to the library now. The smell of the owls is not going
away, and I’d like to get started on my research. There is only so
much that I can find out before we leave at dawn, and I’d like
to get started as soon as I can.”
“It is still a little vhile yet before ve can go out, so get
some rest. I’ll keep vatch and vake you up vhen it is time to go to
the library.” Ron sat down and leaned his head back against the
cold stone of the wall, and Hermione lay down as well, position-
ing her head on his lap. Ron stroked her hair absentmindedly
until the two of them fell asleep. Viktor looked over and smiled,
the green streak of envy never crossing his face.
A little over an hour later, Krum shook Hermione and
Ron awake. “C’mon, ve’ve got to get going. You vill have nearly
six hours to collect your information, Hermione.”
“What?” she asked wearily as she opened her eyes. “I
didn’t quite catch that.”
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“He said that you will only have six hours to do your
research. I think that should be enough time. I was thinking
about how to do this best just before I fell asleep. We have to be
sure to return to the Owlery a little early so that we can come
down in the morning. That way we can pretend that we arrived
early to mail a letter to our parents.”
“Perfect, Ron,” Krum complimented. “I’m impressed.
Ve have not time to vaste.” He held the door open and they
walked downstairs quietly. Unlike Hogwarts, there were no por-
traits lining the walls of the hallway making noises and giving
away wanderers in the middle of the night.
“Krum, do you think that it would be safe make a little
bit of light?” Hermione whispered.
“It vould not be a problem,” he replied. “Everyone else is
sleeping, and teachers usually do not vander the halls at night.”
“Lumos,” Ron and Hermione whispered together. A
faint light glowed from the tip of their wands, illuminating the
pitch-black hallway just enough to be navigable. Ron glanced
up at the ceiling, surprised at the intricate designs that seemed
to have weathered so well when the rest of Durmstrang had not.
He was no entranced by the design that he did not notice that
he had walked straight past the library.
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“Ron,” Hermione whispered as she pulled at his coat.

“You passed the library. It’s this way.” She grabbed his hand
and pulled him into the room after her. “Well, the school is not
much, but there certainly is not a shortage of books.” Ron’s jaw
dropped at the sight. The bookshelves were full of books on
magic. Books were stacked on top of the shelves, and desks were
entirely covered by books, some piles stacked five or six books
high.
“I’ll vatch the door. You should do the research that you
need to do. Come and get me vhen you have finished.” He
pulled up a chair and sat down, facing the door.
“Do you have a restricted section?” Hermione asked.
“For the darker books?”
“No. All students are encouraged to read as many books
as they can, especially those that are about dark magic. I doubt
that Karkaroff vould ever have restricted books, no matter how
much evil is contained vithin them.”
“Are they organized in any recognizable way?” Hermione
asked again, trying to gain more information. There were too
many to look at them all, and as Krum so frequently pointed
out, time was of the essence.
“Not at all. Karkaroff believed that students vould read
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more books if it vere harder for them to find vhat they vere
looking for. He thought that perhaps they vould stumble across
some new topic that vould interest them, but in fact he only
deterred students from reading. As a result, the library has not
been organized for some time. Most students try not to go in
here, and those that do, leave their books on these desks so that
they vill be easier to find them later. That is vhat I was doing
vhen I vas a student here.”
“Great. We could spend our entire lives here and not
find a thing in this mess,” Ron said bitterly. “I mean, what are
the chances of finding anything useful if we don’t even know
what we are looking for, or where to find it?”
“Just look for books with the words ‘Dark Arts’, ‘Evil’,
or ‘Dark Magic’ in its title. Those books will give us our best
chances. Who knows, we may even be able to sneak some books
home with us. If you find a book named Desire for the Dark Arts:
A Guide to the Power and Majesty of Pain, give it to me imme-
diately. I believe that there are some words missing from Sirius’s
copy, words that might bear great importance later.”
“Um, Hermione,” Ron interrupted, looking extremely
distraught.
“What, Ron?” she asked.
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“The books are in another language. So are the titles. I

can’t understand a word of them.” Ron shrugged his shoulders
helplessly and threw a glance in Viktor’s direction. “Viktor, we
can’t understand the books. Let me keep guard while you trans-
late the titles for Hermione.”
“I’m sorry. I completely forgot that you do not know
Bulgarian. Don’t fall asleep, Ron.” He rose from his chair and
traded places with Ron. Hermione had already gathered a stack
of books that looked promising and proceeded showing them
to Viktor.
“No, no, no, and no. These books have nothing to
do vith Horcruxes, or even the Dark Arts for that matter. You
picked up a potions book for first years, and two volumes on the
verevolf and the giant, two creatures that are extremely common
in the North.”
Hermione tossed the books to one side, and continued
searching for new books; Krum did likewise. Ron continued to
keep watch at the door, his eyes beginning to close as he became
more and more tired. He shook his head wearily, trying to keep
the sleep from overtaking his body. “Found anything yet?” Ron
called, trying to keep himself awake through conversation.
“We’re still trying,” Hermione replied. “Viktor, would
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you translate the titles of these books that I just picked up?”
“Certainly.” He glanced at the first title and laughed
loudly. “A Vitch’s Guide to Cooking. How did that get here? Ve
have no vitches at Dumstrang.”
Hermione shrugged uncaringly. There were more
important things to consider than the number of witches at
Durmstrang. The other two are entitled, “Magical Me and I Vant
the Dart Arts: A Guide to the Strength and Kingship of Suffer.”
“Viktor, are the words strength and power the same in
Bulgarian?”
“Yes.”
“And kingship and majesty, are they the same as well?
“No, not really. Vhy, vhat are you getting at?”
“What about pain and suffer?”
“The same,” Krum replied, still unsure of what Hermione
was thinking. Hermione gave Ron a meaningful glance, but
unfortunately, he had already fallen asleep.
“So, could you also call the book,” she used a theatrical
voice, ‘Desire for the Dark Arts: A Guide to the Power and Majesty
of Pain?’”
“It sounds fine to me. Vere you looking for this book?”
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“Yes, but we don’t have to look for it any longer.” She

ran over to Ron and shook him awake. “Ron, I’ve found the
book. Now I can translate the completed copy and we can
destroy the Horcrux in the locket.”
“What time is it?” Ron asked with an audible yawn,
his mouth remaining completely uncovered by his hand in the
process.
“It’s nearly two in the morning. You’ve been asleep for
hours, I’d guess. We’re going to try to leave now, but we have
to be very quiet. Krum says that there are house-elves up at this
time of night.”
“Then we’ll just have to go real quietly.” Ron rose from
his chair. “How many books are you taking?”
“Just this one.” She held up Desire for the Dark Arts.
“There are some letters missing from the copy at Grimmauld
Place, so I’m taking this extra. None of the other books we
found seemed useful enough.”
“Fine, but I doubt we can come back here again. Are you
sure that you have everything you need?”
“Positive. Krum, can we go down now?”
“Ve vill leave the same vay ve came in. Our broomsticks
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are outside vere ve left them, so this should not be a problem. If

ve hurry, ve can be back home by midday.”
229
Chapter Fifteen
The Cup of the Badger
Harry watched Hermione depart with Viktor and Ron

from the open doorway. The day was very sunny, only a few
clouds sitting up in the sky. Harry closed the door quickly
behind him, and walked back to his room to get changed. When
he returned, he found Ginny Weasley sitting on his bed wait-
ing for him. Harry’s mouth hung open in shock, and he did a
double-take, trying to make sure that Ron’s sister was really in
the room.
“Ginny,” he began, his voice returning to this body.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Hogwarts?”
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BADGER
“Yes, but I came here as soon as Hermione called.”

“Hermione called you?” Harry asked in surprise. He had
no idea that Hermione had called Ginny.
“Yes, last night. It wasn’t really a call, like a telephone,
just a D.A. galleon. It said ‘12 Grimmauld Place Tomorrow
A.M. Ginny’, so I came.”
“Do Neville and Luna know about this?” Harry asked.
He had no intention of having Neville or Luna find out about
Horcruxes, or what he was doing at 12 Grimmauld Place instead
of coming to school.
“I explained to them that you just wanted to see me, and
that it was nothing important. They have some idea of why you
are not in school—I mean, Harry, it’s not as though no one’s
talking about you—but I didn’t tell them anything. I did tell
them that you’d be coming back for the spring term, but I’m not
sure that they believe me.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
“And Harry,” she continued somewhat breathlessly,
“Hagrid’s the new head of Gryffindor House. He still lives in
his hut though, and when I showed him the message, he lent
me Witherwings. I had to tell him that I was going to see you
in order to get permission, but I think that it was well worth
it. I left last night, and I arrived early this morning. Hermione
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let me in through the back door, and here I am,” she finished
somewhat bluntly.
“And here you are,” he replied, smiling to hide his con-
fusion. “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nice long shower?
I’ll fix us some breakfast. We leave at nightfall, so you’ve got the
whole day to rest up and get ready. Hermione’s got some extra
Muggle clothing that probably fits you, and I don’t think she’d
mind your wearing it.” He walked downstairs to the kitchen and
began to cook breakfast, leaving Ginny alone upstairs.
Harry opened the refrigerator and pulled out the fruit
bin. He did not know how to make oatmeal or eggs with magic,
and he thought it best that he not set the house on fire when
Hermione was away. He placed the fruit out on one of the cut-
ting boards and a knife beside them. Pointing his wand at the
fruit, he watched as they immediately peeled themselves. He
then pointed his wand at the knife, tapping his fingers idly as
itcut up two bananas. Once it finished cutting the bananas, it
moved on to the next fruit. Harry sat down at the kitchen table
and admired his handiwork. He just hoped that Hermione was
not saving the fruit for dinner. Once the fruit was chopped up
into little pieces, Harry poured it into a large bowl.
By the time Ginny arrived downstairs, Harry had already
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BADGER
cleared the table and put the used dishes in the sink. “What’s for
breakfast, Harry?” Ginny asked as she came into view.
“Fruit salad. I know it isn’t a hot meal, but it was the best
I could do on such short notice. Actually, it is the best I can do,
period. Hermione usually does the cooking.”
Ginny smiled. “It looks great.” She grabbed a bowl and
sat down at the table.
“The clothes seem to fit,” Harry commented, eyeing
Ginny cautiously.
“They fit great. Hermione and I are the same size, ever
since last year.” She scooped a large amount of fruit into her
bowl and began eating. “It’s good, Harry,” she said, popping a
healthy chunk of banana into her mouth. “So what’s the plan for
today? Why’d Hermione call me in so suddenly?”
“She thinks that I am going to need help, but I explic-
itly told her that I was fine and that I didn’t want you to get
involved.”
“You didn’t want me involved? You said that at the
end of last year we couldn’t be together, but, Harry, I want to
help.”
“I don’t want your help. It’s too dangerous. If something
happened to you, I could never forgive myself.”
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“The same goes for you, Harry. If you got hurt, and
I could prevent it, I couldn’t forgive myself either. I’m sorry,
Harry, but I am coming with you.”
Harry stared at her sternly, but she met his gaze with an
equally powerful one. “Fine, you’re coming, but you do what
I tell you.” He remembered what Dumbledore had told him
when together they went to get the first Horcrux. “If I tell you
to flee, you have to go. No matter what, even if it means that
I might not make it out after you.” She nodded dumbly, sur-
prised by the fierceness of Harry’s determination.
“I promise. When do we leave?”
“Tonight. We have to go to an abandoned orphanage.
Voldemort was keeping something there, so I have to bring it
back to the house.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t say, at least not yet. Dumbledore promised that
I wouldn’t tell anyone what I was after.” He looked away from
her, hoping to prevent her from asking the inevitable question.
“Do Ron and Hermione know?” she asked, aware of
Harry’s uneasiness.
“Yes. Dumbledore suggested that I tell them, but I
didn’t want you to get involved. Are you sure that you want
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BADGER
to know? It’s a big responsibility, and once you have this infor-
mation, there’s no turning back. You’ve got to keep it a secret.
No one can know except you. Professor McGonagall doesn’t
know, Remus Lupin doesn’t know. Once I tell you this, you are
one of five living people who know this secret, and of them is
Voldemort, and he sure isn’t going to tell anyone.”
“Don’t baby me, Harry. If I say I am going to keep it a
secret, I’m going to keep it a secret, no matter what it takes.”
“Okay then.” Harry took a deep breath. “Here goes.
Voldemort divided his soul into seven pieces, seven being the
most powerful magical number. He stored five of these pieces
in inanimate objects, one of them in his snake, Nagini, and the
last piece remains within his body. In a dream, Voldemort inad-
vertently showed me the location of one of these pieces, and the
object in which it is stored. I am sure that it is not the snake.
We, if you still wish to join me, that is, are going to recover this
object. When Hermione and Ron return from Durmstrang, we
are going to figure out how to destroy that part of Voldemort’s
soul.”
Ginny looked shocked for a moment, but she quickly
regained her composure. “Okay, fine. So what makes this so
dangerous, other than the fact that it is part of Voldemort’s
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soul?”
“Voldemort did not just leave his objects unguarded and
in places where they could be so easily found. When I went to
find a Horcrux with Professor Dumbledore—”
“A what?” Ginny asked.
“A Horcrux. That’s the name of the object which in
which the portion of the soul is stored.” She nodded, showing
that she understood. “When Dumbledore and I went to find
one of them, a locket, we had to enter a cave that was on the
side of a cliff.” Harry shuddered at the memory. “Dumbledore
had to give some of his blood in order to go through a door, find
a hidden boat, and go across Inferi infested waters to reach a
small island.” Ginny began to look uneasy. “Dumbledore drank
a potion from a bowl that weakened him considerably and gave
him much pain. Luckily, I could ease the pain with water, but
that awoke the Inferi, who then attacked us. We had quite a
battle on our hands before we left the cave. We managed to
overcome them though and make our way back to Hogwarts. I
believe you know the rest of the story.”
Giiny paused and then spoke. Her words were deliber-
ate. “It sounds dangerous, Harry, but if Dumbledore needed
two people, I guarantee that you will need help as well. I’m
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coming, and together, we are going to get that Horcrux.”

* * *
Night fell, and the streets of London turned empty. It
appeared that even Muggles felt that something was wrong.
They did not know of Lord Voldemort, but they chose to be
cautious as well, scuttling about silently in the moonlit nighr.
“Can you apparate, Ginny?” Harry asked, afraid that he already
knew the answer.
“No, but that shouldn’t be a problem.” Ginny looked at
Harry expectantly, doing her best to prevent him from changing
his mind.
“No, it shouldn’t. I can take you with me using Side-
Along Apparition, but I’m just worried that if something goes
wrong, you won’t be able to get back all right.”
She brushed back a lock of her hair. “We can take
Witherwings,” she replied after a brief pause. “He can fly us
there and back, and we won’t even need to apparate.”
“Not possible. If a Muggle saw a Hippogriff it would be
all over the news. Besides, the Ministry would find out where
we were pretty quickly, and then I couldn’t get the Horcrux. Do
you know how to call the Knight Bus?”
“The what?” She shook her head no in response.
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“The Knight Bus. I doubt anything is going to go

wrong, but Dumbledore couldn’t speak after retrieving the
locket, so I’m just warning you now. If anything happens to me,
call the Knight Bus. All you have to do is raise your wand in
the air, and the bus will pull up.Just get on and go to the Leaky
Cauldron. You’ll be safe there. Do you promise?” She nodded
her head fervently. “Fine, then grab my hand.” She squeezed his
hand tightly. “You’re going to experience a strange sensation, like
all the air is being sucked from your lungs. I’ll leave on the count
of three.” She nodded again and squeezed his hand tighter.
“One…two—” CRACK.
They arrived at the ruins of the orphanage, and Harry
heard Ginny take deep gulps of air. “You said on the count of
three,” she managed to gasp.
“The anticipation is worse than the act itself. I thought
you’d be more frightened if you knew when it was about to
occur. Ginny, you can let go of my hand now.” She released
Harry’s hand with some reluctance, the markings of her finger-
nails clearly embedded in his hand.
“It really wasn’t that bad, Harry. Although I can see what
you mean about the air leaving your lungs.”
“Shall we go in?” Harry asked lightly, as though it were
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just a casual everyday event.

Ginny matched him with an equally light response. Her
determination not to show her fear was visible in her voice. “Yes,
let’s. So what’s first on the agenda?”
“We have to enter through the front door, but stay low.
You’re probably short enough anyway, but Voldemort has aimed
a hex at those who enter the door. I think that if we crawl, it will
miss us. Are you ready?”
She nodded and moved towards the door. Harry
motioned for her to stand aside from the door. When she was
in position, he opened the door quickly, falling to the ground
at the same time. The hex flew far over his head, deepening the
mark in the tree across the way. “Get on the ground. I don’t
know if the door is going to fire more hexes, or if it only fires
the one shot.” They crawled single file through the door, Harry’s
wand never leaving his right hand. When they were far enough
into the front hall, Harry stood up and motioned for Ginny to
do the same.
“That wasn’t so bad.” He looked to her for reassurance,
but he found none. “Now I have to search the room for strong
magic. Where the magic is at its strongest, there is a lever.
When I pull the lever, the door to the next room opens. When
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Voldemort went inside there was nothing but the empty ward-
robe, but I’m not so sure that he doesn’t have more defenses in
place.”
He felt around the room, doing his best to relax his mind
and to recall the motions that Dumbledore went through at the
cave. Ginny offered her help, but Harry told her to remain in
the center of the room. He wasn’t sure if there were creatures
that were lurking in the walls should he fail to find the lever. He
shuddered at the thought.
As time wore on, Harry remained just as unsure of
where the lever was as he had been when he first came into the
room. As far as he could tell, there was no aura of magic that
he could use to find out where the lever was located. “Lumos
Maxima,” he whispered, and soon the darkness of the room
became bright as day.
“Harry,” Ginny asked quietly, her hand trying to shield
her eyes from the brightness of the room. “Does that wall look a
bit transparent to you?” Harry looked where she pointed.
“You found it. Oh, you found it,” he repeated gleefully,
pulling on the lever and watching the door to Voldemort’s old
room opened wide. He kissed her hard on the mouth. “And
now for the last bit.”
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BADGER
He traced his finger along the outside of the wardrobe,

all the while whispering Helga Hufflepuff, open this door. At
first, the words flowed from his mouth only in English, but as
his mind began to feel the need to use Parseltongue, he switched
languages. The change was imperceptible, and he would not
have noticed had Ginny not let out a gasp when she heard him
speak.
Almost on cue, the wardrobe opened widely and was
engulfed in flames. Inside stood the Cup of the Badger, the Cup
of Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. He
reached inside to grab it, thinking that his hand would be reject-
ed as Dumbledore’s had been at the cave, but he was wrong.
A searing pain shot through his hand as he reached inside, his
whole body stiffening with the pain.His hand held the Horcrux
tightly, his muscles unable to let go of the cup. Ginny pulled
him from the wardrobe, and gently shook his stiffened body,
but he could not move.
A few moments later, Harry blinked his eyes and whis-
pered with what seemed to be every ounce of his strength,
“Ginny, drag me outside. Call for the Knight Bus…back to…
Hermione heal…” He wearily fell into a deep sleep, the cup fall-
ing from his hand as the muscles in his hand moved once more.
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Ginny pocketed Hufflepuff ’s Cup in the pocket of he rrobes,

and remembering to stay close to the ground, dragged Harry out
to the street. She raised her wand high in the air and the Knight
Bus pulled into view.
“Where to, missy?” Stan asked.
“Twe—fourteen Grimmauld Place, please. And hurry.”
“Well, little lady. Hurrying is what we do best. Right,
Ern?” Rather than respond, Ernie pressed down hard on the
pedal, propelling the bus forward rapidly. “Harry looks a little,
ill,” Stan added, placing Harry gingerly on a nearby bed.
“He doesn’t look good, does he? I’ll fix him up when he
gets home, but the sooner, the better.”
“Don’t worry. You’re our first and last stop. Nobody
seems to be out at this time of night anymore. Business hasn’t
exactly been booming.” The Knight Bus screeched to a halt,
throwing Ginnyointo the bed on which Harry lay.
She extricated herself from the bed, but was unable to
pick up Harry. Stan saw her struggle and offered, “I’ll carry him
to the house for you.”
“If you can just help me get him out the door it should
be fine. I can levitate him once we get outside, so I can bring him
to the door directly.” The Secret Keeper spell on 12 Grimmauld
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Place prevented her from telling Stan of the house’s location,

and she was not sure that she would even want him to know
anyway. Together, they carried Harry’s body, deep in sleep, from
the Knight Bus. “Wingardium Leviosa.” Harry’s body slowly
rose upwards into the air until it was level with Ginny’s head.
Using her left hand, she waved goodbye to Stan as he boarded
the Knight Bus, and she stepped inside 12 Grimmauld Place,
pushing Harry through the door as she walked.
Ginny continued to move Harry to his bed and lay him
down on top of his sheets. She grabbed Ron’s blanket from the
next bed over and spread it across Harry’s lifeless form, wiping
a tear from the corner of her eye as she did so. Harry woke up
for just a moment, just long enough to whisper, “Good night,”
and promptly fell asleep once more. Ginny kissed him firmly on
his forehead, and pulling Hufflepuff ’s Cup from her pocket, laid
it to rest on the table beside Harry’s head. Moments later, she
collapsed from exhaustion, the stress of the night overpowering
her will to stay awake. Just outside the window, Witherwings
clucked happily as he plucked another squirrel from its perch on
a tree and swallowed it whole.
243
Chapter Sixteen
Necare Horcrux
Harry sat up uneasily in bed, his body still extremely

stiff from the ordeal of the night before. He glanced outside his
bedroom window; the sun was already high in the sky and the
yard was littered with the bones of Witherwings’ meals. He tried
to yawn, but found that his jaw was nearly to stiff to move. He
reached out for his wand, but found that it was just out of reach.
Harry tried to get out of bed in order to retrieve it, but his legs
would not respond and he fell to the ground.
Ginny sprinted into the room and pulled him back up
onto the bed. “Ron and Hermione just got back. Krum is with
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them. I was by your side all night, and the moment I leave, you
wake up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were pull-
ing a Lavender Brown.” Harry smiled weakly, his jaw muscles
moving in deep pain. “I’ll bring you some soup in a little while.
Hermione found some old book; I think she is going to try to
translate it now.”
“Did she say what it was called?”
“No, and I couldn’t read it. The title was in another
language; probably Bulgarian is my guess, considering that they
had Krum with them.”
“They were at Durmstrang last night, doing research.
You’re probably right, but I don’t see how Hermione is going to
be able to translate it.”
“She said something about Ancient Runes. Just get some
sleep, and I will bring you some food in an hour or so. You are
still too weak to move much.”
“The cup, do you have the cup?” He looked about the
room frantically for it.
“I put it by your bedside last night, just before I went
to bed.”
He glanced at the nightstand near his table. “Good. I’ll
go back to sleep, but wake me up at the first sign of trouble.”
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He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. In moments, he

was sleeping soundly. Ginny looked at him for a few moments,
biting her lip to hold back the tears. She hurriedly kissed Harry
on the forehead and sped downstairs to Hermione.
In what seemed to be just seconds to Harry, Ginny
arrived upstairs with a bowl of hot soup and some bad news.
“Hermione can’t make head or tail of the first book, the one she
got from the house. It is missing too many runes to be of any
use, though she did translate a few words. It seems like complete
gibberish, though, too many gaps. Hermione is going to look at
the second book to see what she can glean from that.”
“The second book?”
“The one she found in Durmstrang. It turned out to be
the same book as the other one, only in Bulgarian. The runes
are the same in both Bulgarian and English, so once Hermione
finishes translating them she should be able to fill in the missing
pieces.”
Harry nodded and took a large gulp of soup. “It’s good.
Do you make it?”
Ginny shook her head and replied, “Hermione did. I
accidentally set the stove on fire, so Hermione put it out and
put on a pot of soup for you. Perhaps later on she can teach me
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what she knows.”

“That would be nice. She’s an excellent cook; this is
probably the best food I’ve ever tasted.” Harry thought he
detected a frown, but it may have just been a trick of the light.
“Would you like to come downstairs? Your legs might be
a little more mobile now. I’ll help you down if you’d like.”
“Not yet. I still feel weak. Now I know what Dumbledore
must have felt like after drinking a bowl of poison last year. Did
you see what caused my pain last night?”
“I think it was the wardrobe. You were fine until you
stuck your hand inside, and as soon as you clamped down on
the cup, your whole body seemed to tense up. Your legs became
immobile, and I had to drag you out the door to the street. For
the longest time, your hand was locked so tightly around the
cup that you couldn’t let go.”
“So the cup caused the pain?”
“I’m not so sure, Harry. I pulled the cup from your
hands, and it had no effect on me. I think that it was the ward-
robe, the magical fire from the wardrobe. I’m not too sure, but
that is what I’m betting on.”
He handed Ginny the bowl. “Could you hand me
my school textbooks and my wand as well, please? I’ll come
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downstairs in a little while, but for right now, I just want to

study some more, prepare a bit more for what I am up against.
I thought that I could retrieve this Horcrux without a problem,
but I guess I was wrong. I mean, I can barely move.” He chuck-
led lightly to himself and took the books from Ginny’s hands.
Harry cracked open Challenging Charms and turned to
the chapter on stripping away enchantments.
An Introduction to Complex Disenchantment

It is far easier to enchant something than it
is to disenchant something, even if the enchantment
has been done poorly. Often, it is just more difficult
to remove a poorly-made enchantment than it is to
remove a well-made enchantment because there is
no exact spell that can remove a charm that has an
unintended effect. Frequently, an object will have
several layers of enchantments, all of which must be
removed in a certain order. If the enchantments are
removed in the wrong order, it may become impos-
sible to remove the charms from the object. In the
following pages, I will discuss different disenchant-
ments and the manners in which they are used.
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“What chapter?” Hermione asked cheerfully as she

entered the room.
“Disenchantments.” Harry looked up from his book.
“Interesting chapter. Maybe you could try some of them
out on those Horcruxes later. Anyway, I’ve made some progress
on the book although everything still appears to be gibberish.
I translated the Durmstrang copy. It has all the letters, and the
letters form words, but somehow the sentences make absolutely
no sense. Are you ready to come downstairs?”
“Yeah. Could you help me up?” Hermione pulled Harry
from the bed. He stood up gingerly, being sure to hold onto
Hermione’s shoulder as he stood. Together, they walked down-
stairs, Harry’s legs hardly bending as he took each step slowly
and carefully.” His legs were still rather stiff, and he could barely
walk despite his many hours of rest.
When they reached the living room, Harry plopped
down hard on the couch beside Ron. Ron, seeing that Harry was
still uncomfortable, pulled his legs up so that they were resting
on top of the coffee table. “It’s good to see you alive, and…I
was going to say well, but you look like you’ve attacked by a
Hungarian Horntail.”
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“You know, Ron, I was attacked by a Hungarian Horntail,

and all things considered, I think that I look far worse now than
I did after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.”
“A few scratches is nothing compared to vhat I had dur-
ing the tournament, if you remember. The dragon trampled
all of its eggs and singed the clothing I vas vearing. My dragon
did not even have spikes on its tail.” Krum chuckled deeply,
his voice not hinting at any sign of worry for Harry’s current
predicament.
“Hermione, can I take a look at the books?” Harry
asked, his body finally relaxed on the couch.
“I can’t see why not. I doubt you’ll find anything, but it
certainly won’t hurt for you to try. Maybe you’ll find something
I overlooked, but without knowledge of Ancient Runes, I doubt
you’ll have the opportunity.”
“But, you never can tell, Hermione,” Ginny commented
from her chair. “It seems like the Ancient Runes will be as much
gibberish to you as they will to Harry.”
Harry opened both books to the page that Hermione
earmarked and stared long and hard at the runes. A few min-
utes later, he looked up. “The runes seem to be blanked out in
no particular location, or order. Hermione, maybe if you copy
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down all the missing runes that are in the Durmstrang copy but
not in our copy, the books will give us some information.”
Hermione scribbled down the runes quickly. The pros-
pect that the gibberish might actually have some meaning
renewed both her confidence and her hope. “I’ve got it!” she
exclaimed, her face flushed with the excitement. Much to
Ginny’s dismay, she hugged Harry tightly. “In order to destroy
a Horcrux, one only need utter the words ‘Necare Horcrux.’ In
order to use the spell, one must use the object for its original
intention.”
“So what does that mean?” Harry asked.
“I think that you are supposed to wear the locket, or
something of that nature. The locket seems like it must have
some extra enchantments on itself, for starters. I mean, it’s been
around for who knows how long and it has no scratches or other
damages. I don’t think that just any old locket could survive in
a viscous liquid for at least seventeen years and not show signs
of wear.”
“So what does it say happens when I cast the spell?”
“I’m not sure what will happen. Everything I told you
before is all the text says. I wouldn’t try anything until you are
feeling better. We don’t know what could happen when you try
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to destroy a Horcrux, or what would happen should you man-

age to succeed.” Hermione shed him a worried glance, her eyes
resting on his two legs propped up on top of the coffee table. He
was healing quickly, but she doubted whether he would be able
to walk on his own again any time soon.
“Ron, Ginny, what do you think?”
“Wait,” Ron replied. “There is no reason to try to
remove the Horcrux while you are still weak. For all you know,
it might kill you.”
“Agreed,” Ginny added. “I think it best that I stay with
you until you are better. It’s unfair to have Hermione take care
of you all the time. I’d be glad to lend a helping hand.”
“Nice try, Ginny,” Ron interrupted before Harry or
Hermione could even respond. “You’re going back to Hogwarts,
and that’s final. I suspect that we will see you again soon enough.
I believe that we’ve gotten a little far behind in our education.”
Ginny started to protest but Ron shushed her quickly. “I don’t
want to hear it. When it comes time to fight You-Know-Who,
you’ll need the best education possible. I don’t want my kid sis-
ter getting killed because she can’t defend herself.”
“You know, Ron. I’m not such a kid anymore. But,
okay, you win this one. I think Witherwings is missing Hagrid
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anyway.” She walked outside carefully, doing her best not

to disturb the giant Hippogriff. When she was near enough,
she bowed slowly. After Withewings returned the bow, Ginny
hopped onto his back and flew out of sight.
When she was out of view, Hermione turned to Krum.
“Viktor, I think I know what you should do next.”
“I don’t know. Quidditch season is just around the cor-
ner. I do not have the time to help you anymore.”
“Krum, there won’t be any more Quidditch if Voldemort
comes to power,” Harry replied. He did not know what
Hermione was planning, but if it involved Krum, it had to be
important.
Krum winced. “Fine. Vhat do you vant?”
Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that however
she phrased the next few words could decided whether or not
Viktor Krum was going to help them any longer. “We need you
to recruit Durmstrang students, a whole army of them. We’ll
have Fleur do a similar thing with Beauxbatons. Take this.” She
handed Krum one of the D.A. galleons. “When we need your
help, the galleon will glow bright and will display our location.
We won’t use it until we are going to fight He-Who-Must-Not-
Be-Named. Be sure that in your army you have one person who
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can apparate for every two that cannot, otherwise you might
find your army immobile when it’s time to come to our aid.”
She kissed him lightly on the cheek “Go now.” Krum walked
out the front door, turned on the spot and was gone.
“Ron, Hermione,” Harry whispered faintly as he tried to
sit more upright on the sofa. He was getting tired and his voice
was growing weaker. “I think that it’s time to go to Hogwarts.
Madame Pomfrey may be able to heal me much faster, and
besides, I don’t know where to look next for a Horcrux. I want
to take another look at the Pensieve to see what I…can…find.”
He fell into a deep sleep, leaving Hermione and Ron to ponder
the matter on their own.
* * *
“Good afternoon, Harry,” Hermione whispered as she
shook him awake. “I’ve got some soup for you, if you’re up to
it.”
“Unhh, Hermione,” he began, struggling to sit up.
“Lie still. I’ll prop you up with some pillows.” She put
the soup on his nightstand and eased his back against the pillows
behind his head.
“Thanks. I’ll have some of the soup now, if you please.”
He slurped hungrily at the soup, and then realizing the noise he
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made, began to eat it more slowly.

“I see the hero’s awake,” Ron replied jovially as he
entered the room. “I brought some more soup.” He brandished
the heavy pot in his right hand. “I figured you might want
another bowl or two.”
Hermione conjured a coaster out of the air and Ron
set his pot down on top of it. “Don’t you ever wonder where
the things come from when they are conjured from the air?” he
asked. “Me Mum’s been doing it her whole life, but I haven’t the
foggiest where the stuff comes from.”
“In The Standard Book of Spell: Grade Four, it stated that
objects that are conjured out of the air are the conglomeration of
particles that are blended together by the thoughts of a wizard’s
mind,” Hermione replied.
“I think she’s cut out to be a professor. Don’t you,
Harry?” Ron commented, pushing Hermione playfully.
“Oom” was all Harry could reply through a mouthful
of soup.
“Have some more, Harry,” Hermione suggested as she
ladled more soup onto his plate. “I would use my wand, but it
seems so much more caring to ladle it by hand.”
“Are we going to Hogwarts?” Harry croaked out before
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starting on his second bowl.

“When you feel better, yes,” Hermione replied.
“Then I’m fine.” He stood up out of bed abruptly, spill-
ing some of the soup on his bed sheets. Before Hermione could
even clean up the mess, Harry collapsed in exhaustion.
“Hermione,” Ron whispered. “I think we should go to
Hogwarts now. Whatever Harry’s got is out of our league.”
“We can’t yet, Ron. At least wait until morning before
we go.”
“Fine, but if he’s not better by then, we’re leaving in the
morning.”
Fortunately, Harry was feeling much better the follow-
ing morning. He rose quietly from his bed at sunrise, and as a
way of thanking Ron and Hermione, decided to try his hand at
making breakfast.
“What’s that smell?” Ron called from upstairs through
a large yawn. “Hermione, I think something’s burning in the
kitchen. You’d better check on what you’re making.”
“Ron, I’m not making anything,” she answered storm-
ing into his room.
“Hermione, please, knock,” he replied, turning away
from her. “I’m still in my nightclothes.”
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“Sorry.” She stepped outside the door. “I’m just going

to go check on Harry.”
“Fine,” he called to her. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Hermione,” Harry yelled from downstairs. “I’m awake,
but I think I ruined the flapjacks.”
“Let me see. Oh, well, that smells just grand.” The
burnt flapjacks vanished. “How many times did you flick your
wand?”
“Four,” he replied. “I saw you flick your wand four
times for toast, so I figured, it couldn’t hurt.”
“You’ve got to flick it twice for flapjacks. I like my toast
burnt. Here, let me show you.” Flapjack batter began to cook
on the skillet, and within minutes, Hermoine had finished six
golden brown flapjacks. “See, Harry, it’s not that difficult.”
“I’ll stick with the Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Cooking is just a little out of my league.”
257
Chapter Seventeen
Return of an Enemy
“We’ll walk from here,” Hermione declared firmly upon

finding the physical barrier between the magic that guarded
Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.
“Listen, Hermione. I’ve got a better idea. The school
is probably swarming with Aurors. They probably need a lot of
extra protection now that Dumbledore is gone. We’ll use the
secret passageway under Honeydukes. If we’re lucky, we can get
to the school undetected,” Harry replied.
“But once we get inside, it’s still going to be nearly im-
possible to roam around undetected. If Mad-Eye Moody’s back
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than there’s no way that we are going to be able to hide in the

Invisibility Cloak. Remember, it hardly reaches down to our feet
now.”
“You forgot to mention that we don’t know the pass-
word to McGonagall’s office anyway,” Ron added glumly. “Even
if we do get inside, the only way we are going to be able to get
to the Pensieve is to sneak into her office on her way out, and
that’s going to be hard to do.”
“But not impossible. And even if we fail, maybe she’ll let
enter the Pensieve anyway.”
“Harry, do you even know how to get out of the
Pensieve?” Hermione asked, starting to realize the futility of
their task.
“No, but I know how to get into the Pensieve. We can
figure out how to get out later, and if not, Professor McGonagall
will pull us out eventually. Don’t worry. Everything will come
together in the end. It always has.”
“We’ll need all the luck we can get,” Ron replied in
gloom.
“Quiet now. We can speak again once we get into the
passageway. Ready?” Ron and Hermione nodded. They walked
briskly to Honeydukes, and when they saw that no one was
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looking, scampered down the trap door and into the passageway.
“Phase one, complete,” Harry said cheerily. “Everything is okay
so far. Let me just pull out the Map.” He reached into his robe
and revealed the Marauder’s Map. “Lucky you reminded me to
bring this, Ron. It’s been sitting at the bottom of my trunk for
the past six months. Not good, not good at all. The school has
got Moody posted at this exit. We’re going to need one of Fred
and George’s diversionary machines.”
“I hate to use it so early, Harry. We’ve only got the one,”
Ron held it up carefully.
“It doesn’t matter. We can blend in with the rest of the
students once we reach the school. It’s winter, so most of the
students should be wearing winter coats, like us,” Hermione
replied.
“When I open the door, throw the machine to the
right. That should send Mad-Eye looking that way. Then, we’ll
run to the left and pull off my cloak. Sounds good?” Ron and
Hermione looked at each other tentatively. They did not have
nearly as much faith in Harry’s plan as he did.
“Ready?” Ron nodded. “Go!” Mad-Eye Moody turned
his head to the right, his magical eyeballing swiveling every
which way as he did so. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made a mad
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dash to the left. When they finally felt they were out of sight,
Harry pulled of the cloak and stowed it inside the pocket of his
coat.
“See. Now we’ll just blend in and walk to Professor
McGonagall’s office,” Harry said nonchalantly. Everything
seemed to be according to plan.
“Potter, Granger, Weasley. I’d like to see you in my
office immediately,” Professor McGonagall ordered from behind
them.
At first, the three were in shock, but when they had
finally recovered, Ron meekly laughed and said, “It looks like
we’re going to Professor McGonagall’s office after all.”
* * *
“Can I have your attention please?” Professor Hrothgar
demanded, silencing the students in the dining hall. “Thank
you. Viktor Krum has just come to me and offered to be the
new Professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well
as your new Quidditch coach. Everyone offer him a welcome
round of applause.”
The room was quickly filled with deafening shouts and
applause as the world famous Quidditch seeker stood atop the
podium. “Thank you. I am not going to be your Quidditch
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coach as Professor Hrothgar just stated, but I will come to that

later. I believe that it is time that we change our Defense Against
the Dark Arts curriculum, substantially. Instead of a classroom
setting for half the week and practical applications for half the
week, I would like to do practical applications for the entire
week. You-Know-Who is back, and I feel it best that we learn
to work together as a team. For now, Quidditch will have to be
cut short.”
The students in the hall gasped in their annoyance. “I
don’t like school. I just like to play Quidditch,” one student
argued.
“It doesn’t matter what you like. Besides, I’m sure you
will find my class entertaining soon enough On the Quidditch
pitch, instead of having Quidditch matches, we will have mock
battles, pitting one team against each other. You will learn
to protect each other, to make sacrifices for one another and
to fight well enough to stand up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named.” At the mention of mock battles, the students quickly
quieted down to hear what else the newly-appointed Professor
Krum had to say. “Hopefully, you at Durmstrang will one
day be good enough to stand with those from Hogwarts and
Beauxbatons in their fight against You-Know-Who as well. I
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have already corresponded with Fleur, and she is doing a similar

program. Harry Potter assures me that Hogwarts will be ready
to fight as well, and that he will have the famed Auror, Alastor
Moody, training the students as soon as he is able.
“This program is, of course, optional, but I think that
it would be in your best interest to do participate in it. Note,
however, that should you choose to join, you will also become
a member of the army that is to fight You-Know-Who. Yes, it
will be dangerous. Yes, some of you might not come home, but
wouldn’t that be true if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won
the war anyway. Do you stand with me?” A cheer rose up from
all the students, and Professor Viktor Krum knew that he was
going to have a long, but very rewarding, semester. He sincerely
hoped that his students would be able to stand up to the Death
Eaters or all was for naught.
When the students had filed out from the dining hall in
order to go to bed for the night, Professor Hrothgar confronted
Krum. “Viktor, you can’t just destroy Quidditch and change the
Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum in one fell swoop.”
“But they love it, Hans. Did you see how happy they
were when I told them of my plans? Not one student decided
against taking the class, at least from what I could see.”
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“They do not truly understand what they are getting

themselves into. They will not be ready to fight against the min-
ions of the Dark Lord. Inferi, Death Eaters, Dementors. There
is not enough time for you to prepare them for theses things.
You are sending them to their deaths, Viktor.”
“No, Hans. I am giving them life.”
* * *
“It’s nice of you to finally show up at school, Mr. Potter,”
Professor McGonagall began coldly inside the empty Transfig-
uration classroom. “Imagine my surprise when Arthur Weasley
informed us that you, Ron, and Hermione were planning to
arrive late to school.” Harry looked relieved for a moment, but
McGonagall’s cold stare quickly dispelled any positive feelings
he might have had. “Unfortunately, Arthur informed me of
this when school had already begun. Imagine my further sur-
prise to find that two Prefects, one of whom was made Head
Girl over the summer, (although since the letter was returned
to me unopened, I assume that you never did find out), and
my Quidditch Captain had not arrived at school when the year
began.”
“Who’s captain, then?” Harry asked.
“No one. Quidditch was canceled this year because of
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heightened security. We knew you were coming before you even

were in the trap door. Dawlish heard you talking in Hogsmeade
and informed us right away. Alastor was positioned at the secret
entrance so that we could find you as soon as you came through
the door.”
“I guess we were a little obvious,” Hermione interrupted
gloomily.
“No, you were actually the best attempt to sneak in
we’ve had all year. Alastor has already disposed of three Death
Eaters that tried to attack the school.”
“That wasn’t in The Daily Prophet.”
“No, Miss Granger. I’d like to keep these things a secret.
It wouldn’t do to have parents remove the remaining students
from the school.”
“Who is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts
teacher?” Harry asked, realizing that he needed to speak to him
immediately.
“Professor Moody, the real one this time. I suppose
you’ll want to start classes right away.”
“Actually, not quite. I need to talk to him about a change
in the curriculum, a change that, in my opinion, is going to be
extremely beneficial to the students.”
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“Not so fast. You can’t just come barging into Hogwarts

halfway through the year and expect the place to bend to your-
will. Tell your idea to me, and I’ll speak to Alastor.”
“No. I’ll tell you my plan, but we are going to speak to
Alastor together. Krum is already implementing it in Durmstrang,
and if everything goes well, I hope that Beauxbatons will adopt
a similar policy.”
“This is about the Death Eaters, isn’t it, Potter?”
“Precisely. I don’t trust the Ministry to stand up to
Voldemort and his followers, no matter how many Aurors there
are. We are dealing with Werewolves, Inferi, Death Eaters,
Dementors and Giants. Possibly even more. On top of that, I
am going to have to defeat Voldemort myself. In all honesty,
Professor, I think that you are going to have to do what I sug-
gest.”
“And what would that be?”
“A complete change in the Defense Against the Dark
Arts curriculum, one that focuses solely on practical application.
Theory and understanding will come from the practical applica-
tion portion of the class. Technique and speed will be come the
most important things. The workings of the class were really
Hermione’s idea, so perhaps she should explain it to you.”
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“Miss Granger, please. Continue.”

“It is a brilliant idea, actually. Divide the houses into
teams. They are similar to the Quidditch teams, except that
every student is a participant. Instead of Quidditch matches,
students will have mock battles on the Quidditch pitch. Any
magic is allowed, so long as the nothing causes any permanent
damage. It is clear that the younger students are going to be
unable to stand up against the older students, so they should
be trained as healers. All second and first years should take
classes with Madame Pomfrey during the Dark Arts class period.
Because students will be able to function as a team, when the
time comes to fight against You-Know-Who, they will be ready
to fight.”
“I don’t know, Miss Granger. It sounds dangerous.”
“The only thing that would be more dangerous is not
to try. What if they Death Eaters come in larger numbers? The
Hogwarts students would be completely unable to defend them-
selves.”
“I’ll consider it. Speak to Alastor. He’ll have the final
decision. I must say that I am already adverse to the idea, but if
he deems it necessary, I will go along. I notice that you do not
include yourselves in Hogwarts’ student population.”
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“We don’t plan on staying very long,” Ron replied,

entering the conversation for the first time.
“I see. So then tell me, Potter, why the late entry into the
school, especially if you plan to leave so early?”
“I can’t tell you, Professor.I promised Professor
Dumbledore that I would never reveal this secret, and intend to
hold true to that promise.”
“Well, now that you are in school, you must stay.”
“That is not going to happen, Professor. I’m on a mis-
sion,” Harry said hesitantly, hoping he was not giving too
much away, “a mission to destroy certain artifacts, and I need
to leave the school whenever it is necessary. I’ve been at the 12
Grimmauld Place the entire year, but it is lacking one thing that
I need access to.”
“What would that be?” McGonagall asked curtly.
“The Pensieve. I used it frequently last year and I need
to look through it again for more clues.”
“Clues about what?” Professor McGonagall asked wea-
rily, not sure that she believed Harry’s story,
“The artifacts. I’m not sure what they all are, even
though I’ve found most of them. I’m still missing one, and I
hope that the Pensieve will shed some light on this mystery.”
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“What are these artifacts?” Professor McGonagall

pushed.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Tell her what they are,
but not what power they possess.”
“I can hear you, Miss Granger. But if that is all you can
tell me, fine I’d prefer that you respect Albus’s wishes.”
“The artifacts that I have collected, but not yet destroyed,
are Helga Hufflepuff ’s Cup and Salaazar Slytherin’s locket.
Professor Dumbledore has already destroyed a ring, passed down
the line of Slytherin’s descedents—”
“Were these artifacts of You-Know-Who’s?” Professor
McGonagall asked. Harry looked shocked.
“Yes,” he replied, “but that is all I can tell you.”
“That is, suffice it to say, reason enough for me to help
you.”
“Professor, can I speak to Professor Moody now?” Harry
asked, glad that his interrogation was finally over.
As Professor McGonagall nodded her reply, Alastor
Moody walked through the door. “Extendable Ears,” he com-
mented as he entered the room. “Fred and George gave them to
me as a birthday present. Best birthday present I ever received.
They go great with my eye. Professor McGonagall wanted me
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to wait outside just in case you three were under the Imperius
Curse, but you all seem to be doing just fine. I arrived halfway
through the explanation of the mock battles, but I think I
approve. Getting a few bumps and bruises at Hogwarts might
save your life later when you fight he real thing. Constant
Vigilance!” he exclaimed on his way out the door. It closed with
a loud bang behind him.
McGonagall surveyed the three figures left in the room.
“Potter, I want to see you first thing in my office tomorrow
morning. There are still beds for all three of you in your dormi-
tories. The password is Plumpton. Remember, first thing tomor-
row morning.” She opened the door to allow them exit when a
lone, bloody figure stumbled his way into the room.
“Professor…snake…Dark Lord,” Malfoy whispered,
coughing out blood before collapsing on the ground. Harry
made no motion to pick him up, the hatred that he had for
Malfoy coursing through his veins. The Dark Mark on Malfoy’s
arm was not visible except for the long tongue of the Mark’s
mouth.
“Harry,” McGonagall shouted. “Carry him to the
Hospital Wing straight away.”
At first he made no motion to move, but then he real-
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ized he had to take the higher ground. Maybe Malfoy could

help, too, if he survived, grateful to his rescuers. “Yes, Ma’m,”
he replied as he picked Malfoy up. “Ron, could you give me
a hand with this?” Ron took Malfoy’s legs and together, with
Hermione and Professor McGonagall trailing behind them, left
the classroom. On her way out, Professor McGonagall sent her
Patronus to Alastor, warning him that indeed there was a Death
Eater in the school.
“Did he say anything?” Madame Pomfrey asked as Harry
and Ron laid Draco onto one of the hospital beds.
“No, not really,” Ron replied. “He mentioned the words
snake, but I don’t know if that meant anything.”
“It must have been a snake bite, but from what? And I
can’t thing of anything that could make a wound that big. Those
fang marks are too deep for just an ordinary snake.”
“Nagini,” Harry whispered.
“What was that?” Madame Pomfrey asked. “If you’ve
got something to say that will save this boy’s life, then share it
with me.”
“Nagini. She’s Voldemort’s pet snake.” Madame Pomfrey
winced. “She bit Arthur Weasely two years ago. He had to go
to St. Mungo’s, but his wounds were a lot worse than Malfoy’s.
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Ron, would you go get Professor Slughorn? He’ll know what

to do.”
Madame Pomfrey pulled a bezoar from one of the cabi-
nets. “Harry, stuff this down his throat. It’ll stop the flow of the
poison, but it’s not going to heal the wound.” Harry stuffed the
bezoar down Malfoy’s throat and his breathing began to become
easier. Moments later, however, his heart rate quickened.
“It didn’t work. The bezoar must not be able to coun-
teract the poison,” Hermione said worriedly. “I’m going to go
to the library and grab as many books as I can. Good luck,
Harry.”
Malfoy began writhing in pain once more on the bed.
His heart was beating faster and faster, and it seemed that he had
very little hope of surviving the night if Slughorn could not get
him an antidote in time.
“Harry, good to see you again.” Slughorn clasped his
hand warmly as he ran into the room. “Ron told me what hap-
pened. He’s bringing my cauldron and potions and the like
upstairs. I’ve got a small vial of antidote now, a sample of St.
Mungo’s from Arthur Weasley. I’ve got a great contact over
there; the head of the whole place. He sends me things every
so often because I got him his first job in their antidote depart-
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ment.”
“Professor!” Harry shouted, trying to snap Slughorn out
of his long speech.
“Oh, right. Give him this. I’ve got another vial to copy
in order to make the potion. The antidote is only temporary.
It lasts for an hour before you need to give him another dose.
It’s only going to stabilize his condition, not cure him, but that
is the best I can do for the moment. Let me just take a sample
of the venom before it is diluted.” Slughorn touched his wand
tip to the wound and sucked a large amount of venom out. It
slowly coagulated into a large ball, floating just above the tip of
the wand. He pushed the ball of venom into a small vial and
tucked it into the interior of his robes. “I’ll get started on this
in the morning. For now, I need to brew more of the temporary
antidote.”
Harry poured the vial of antidote that Slughorn had
given him into Malfoy’s open mouth. Within moments, Malfoy
began breathing more easily, and the pain in his body seemed
to lessen. Unlike with the bezoar, however, Malfoy’s heart rate
stayed down.
When Ron and Hermione finally returned from their
separate errands, Harry informed the plan he had devised. “We
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need to do this in three hour shifts. One of us must give Malfoy

a vial of potion every hour; Slughorn is making enough for
twenty-four hours. Hopefully, he will be cured by then. While
we are awake, we should help Slughorn make more potion.
Madame Pomfrey just informed me that someone from St.
Mungo’s should be arriving in the morning, but until then, we
are on full duty. So pick a hospital bed. I’ll take the first shift.
It’s going to be a long night.”
274
Chapter Eighteen
Special Services
“Wake up, Hermione. It’s time for your shift,” Ron

whispered as he shook her awake. The fifth batch of the light
blue antidote had almost finished brewing. “Slughorn can’t
seem to get his batch concentrated enough, bad doxie wings or
something, so you need to feed him four vials of the potion at
a time. Each batch only is enough for two doses of the potion,
eight vials in all.”
“What, Ron? Could you repeat that?” she yawned.
“Just give him four vials of the potion at a time. It’s not
concentrated enough.”
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“Fine, get some rest.” Hermione walked over to Profes-

sor Slughorn and the two stacks of books. Hermione pulled a
book from the shorter stack, but Slughorn quickly stopped her.
“Hermione, those are the ones Harry and Ron have
already read. You need to take from the other stack.”
“You mean that they read only three books between the
two of them? They had six hours in which to do it.” Hermione
looked shocked. Harry and Ron had wasted so much time
already.
“Actually, they spent most of their time helping me
understand just what was needed for the antidote. We haven’t
gotten it quite right. I assume Ron’s told you about the de-
creased concentration, but so far it’s doing the trick. Harry does
seem to have lost some of the flair for potions he had last year,
but that’s to be expected. It is very late at night. I’m surprised
that I’ve managed to stay awake as long as I have.”
“Would you like to rest?” Hermione asked, eyeing the
bubbling concoction in the large cauldron before her.
“Honestly, yes, but I think that I should keep brewing
these potions. Ah, it’s done.” He poured most of the potion
into eight vials and stored them in a large box. “Enough for two
doses. This should keep him alive until the St. Mungo’s person
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arrives, but I still don’t know what they are going to be able to
do to cure him. Ron told me the same thing happened to his
father, so perhaps they’ve got some extra potion on hand for this
sort of thing.”
“Doubtful. St. Mungo’s brewed a potion specially for
Mr. Weasley, and how often is one bitten by You-Know-Who’s
snake? All we have to hope for is that they have the list of ingre-
dients for the potion.”
“Quite right. We can always brew the potion ourselves.”
Slughorn looked weary, his eyelids began to droop and in
moments, he had fallen asleep. Hermione sat there watching as
the second turned to minutes, and after one hour, she poured
four vials of potion into the waiting mouth of Draco Malfoy.
His eyes opened suddenly, and his pupils began to dart
around the room. “Gran…ger,” he croaked, his voice weak from
the poison that had infected him. “I am…sorry. Dark Lord…
parents…dead. No—where to go.” He collapsed back on the
bed, and his pulse rate began to drop rapidly, the opposite effect
of what had happened before.
“Harry,” she screamed as she shook him awake. “Give
me your arm. Malfoy’s not breathing. I need some of your
blood, I think.” She was not completely sure that it would work,
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but Harry’s blood seemed like her best bet.

“My blood?” Harry asked tiredly.
“No time to explain. It’s our last chance. If it can save
You-Know-Who, maybe it can save Malfoy.” She opened a
wound in Harry’s arm and drew out a large vial blood from
it. Harry began to feel dizzy, and he collapsed onto his bed.
Hermione injected Draco with the vile of Harry’s blood, and he
began to breathe again. “Harry, are you all right.”
“Never better,” he responded heavily.
“That’s good,” Ron replied, waking up from all the com-
motion. Professor Slughorn was still sound asleep in his chair.
“I’d hate to have to cure two people.”
“So would I,” Madame Pomfrey added as she stepped
into the room. “The healer from St. Mungo’s has just arrived.
You have all performed admirably. Professor McGonagall said
that she would like to see you as soon as you had finished.” Ron
and Hermione helped a very exhausted and weak Harry leave
the room. They walked up the stairs to her office slowly, every
step for Harry a huge effort. The door was already opened by
the time they got there.
“Draco Malfoy is recovering nicely, Hermione advised as
she and Ron let Harry down into a seat.
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“That’s good. He may have much to tell us, maybe even

some of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s plans or secrets.”
“He woke up for a moment during my shift, Professor.
He only spoke a few words, but he told me that his parents were
dead.”
“Did he say how?” Professor McGonagall asked, grab-
bing a newspaper from her desk.
“No, but he did mention You-Know-Who just before.”
“That would make some sense out of this article. Here,
Miss Granger. Have a look.” She handed Hermione an article
form the morning’s Daily Prophet.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy Found Dead:

Ministry on Lookout for Son
Ministry officials were just as baffled as ever

this morning when they found the corpses of
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in the woods just
a few hours from London. Their son, Draco
Malfoy, was not found at the crime scene and
the Ministry is unsure whether he might be the
perpetrator or a victim who barely eluded his
attackers. Lucius Malfoy was put in Azkaban
following the Department of Mysteries incident
just a couple of years ago. Recently, he was freed
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by a group of his Death Eater cohorts, and up

until now, his whereabouts have been unknown.
His wife, Narcissa, has been seen with other
known Death Eaters, notably Bellatrix Lestrange,
but it appears that she herself played no part in
the organization. Ministry coroners determined
that there is no mark of violence or trauma
anywhere on the bodies, so it is clear that the
Killing Curse, which is of course banned by the
Ministry, was used. There is no question as to
who has killed him. It could only be a Death
Eater or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named him-
self, but that leaves the question of whether or
not Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater as well. If
you have any information on this matter, please
report it to the Ministry officials immediately.
“So he wasn’t just delusional,” Ron said as he looked up

from the article. “His parents really are…dead.”
“It would seem that way Mr. Weasley,” Professor
McGonagall snapped. “Draco has a snake bite, yes?”
Hermione nodded. “What are you getting at
Professor?”
“I believe that You-Know-Who tried to kill all three of
them, but miraculously, Draco escaped. You-Know-Who sent
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his snake after Draco, and she bit him. It seems like the only
reasonable possibility.”
Harry nodded his approval, and having felt the strength
return to his body, stood up. “It sounds good to me, but I sus-
pect that Draco can tell us more when he is fully awake. If his
parents really died the way the article described, maybe he will
be willing to help us fight against You-Know-Who.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, Harry,” Ron replied bitterly.
“Prejudice is a hard thing to overcome.
“Not when your parents are dead. Believe me, I’d know
all about it.” Harry smiled grimly and quickly changed the
subject. “Now that Malfoy has somewhat stabilized and there is
someone from St. Mungo’s working to heal him, do you think
that I could have a look at the Pensieve?”
“No, Potter. I don’t think that you are ready to use the
Pensieve on your own. Albus Dumbledore always guided you,
yes.”
“Usually. He pulled me out when I accessed the memo-
ries without permission, but that was purely accidental. I’m
responsible and I know what I am looking for. Please, let me
use it.”
“No. I’m not going to let you just sift through memories
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that are not your own.”

“Minerva,” Dumbledore’s portrait called to her. “Let
Harry use the Pensieve. It is of utmost importance that he finds
what he is looking for. The fate of us all is in his hands now, and
there is little time for him to accomplish his task.”
“Albus, what is this task?”
“I cannot tell you. Let Harry do what he is supposed to
do, and later, when Voldemort has been defeated, I will let you
in on the secret.”
McGongagall sighed. Even as a portrait, Dumbeldore
was still sure-footed and majestic.“Okay. Harry, hop in.”
“Um, Professor. I don’t know how to select what I wish
to view or how to get out.”
“Understandable. Albus has always done it for you in
the past. Think of what you wish to see, and then lean into the
Pensieve. When you are finished, just point your wand into the
air and you will be pulled out. It is quite simple, really.”
On that note, Harry jumped into the Pensieve and stood
next to the figure of Albus Dumbledore. Just as before, Albus
was discussing Voldemort’s wish to get a job at Hogwarts, and
once again he was turning him down. Harry distinctly remem-
bered his fear that Voldemort would attack Dumbledore, and he
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watched the motion of Voldemort’s hand carefully as he reached

for his wand in his pocket. Harry traced an imaginary the line
from the wand tip to an object on the other side of the room
and he knew that he had found what he was looking for: the
unknown Horcrux. Harry pointed his wand into the air and
flew out of the Pensieve.
“The Sorting Hat,” he announced as he left the Pen-
sieve. “That’s where the next…well, you know what is. Professor
McGonagall, would you please leave the office for a few min-
utes?”
“No, Mr. Potter. You are not just going to ask me to
leave my own office. If there is something that you wish to do,
do it in front of me.”
“Minerva, please leave the office,” the portrait of
Dumbledore requested. “Harry needs to do this alone, whatever
he wishes to do.” Professor McGonagall stormed out of the
room in a huff but remained just outside the door.
“Ron, can you grab the Sorting Hat off of its shelf? I
can’t quite reach it.” Ron reached up and plucked the Sorting
Hat from it perch and handed it delicately to Harry.
“Is it the new year, already? It can’t be. I haven’t finished
my song, yet.” The Sorting Hat looked at Harry’s face. “Oh, it’s
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you. The sword is over there if you need it.”

“Uh, thanks. Actually, I need you.”
“Oh, you want to get sorted again. It’s never too late. I
still say that you would have been good in Slytherin, but I’d say
that Gryffindor is just fine too.”
“Yes, well I’m glad that I am in Gryffindor,” Harry
replied wearily. “Don’t bother sorting me. I am just going to put
you on top of my head.”
“Splendid. I haven’t just kept someone’s ears warm since
Godric Gryffindor passed away. It’ll be a nice change after so
many centuries. C’mon, put me on.”
“Godric Gryffindor must have had a very large head,”
Harry observed as he put the hat on. It still came down over his
eyes, just as it had when he was a first year.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be sorted again? It’s
been seven years. It’s high time for a change. You were a dif-
ficult one, you were. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: you
would have been good in Slytherin.” The Sorting Hat continued
to blather on.
“Would you please be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate,”
Harry responded, annoyed. “I’m sticking with Gryffindor and
that is final.” He stopped listening to the Sorting Hat. “Now, let
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me see. I put you over my head, and then I say Necare Horcrux!”
he shouted, but nothing happened.“Necare Horcrux! Necare
Horcrux! Necare Horcrux!”
Harry looked shocked. If the Sorting Hat were not a
Horcrux, then what was? And how was he going to find it? The
Sorting Hat chimed in,“Professor Dumbledore did the same
thing to me last year. I really don’t know what you are doing.”
“Really? He did?”
“Yes he did. I still can’t understand all the magic that
he said. He didn’t look half as frustrated as you are though. So
calm down. It couldn’t have been that important if Professor
Dumbledore didn’t get all worked up about it.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Yes. He said, ‘Oh, I guess you are not a Horcrux after
all.’ Funny, isn’t it? It was really quite the surreal experience.
Dumbledore, putting me on his head was strange enough to
start with. He was sorted ages ago, but that apparently didn’t
make much of a difference. I’ve actually had a lot of surreal
experiences.”
Harry pulled the Sorting Hat off his head, and sat it
down on the table in front of him. Harry was too shocked to
reply, so Hermione did for him. “Like what?” she asked, only
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mildly intrigued by the subject.

“Well, for starters, every time I come to the Great Hall
for a sorting, I am alone in the room for hours. I can swear that
the gargoyles in the room move around. I thought that theywere
supposed to be frozen in place. Otherwise the students might
be in danger, but every time I brought it up with Dumbledore,
he told me not to worry.”
“That was mentioned in Hogwarts, A History. The gar-
goyles are in place as a defense mechanism, designed to attack
whoever sneaks into school through any of the secret passage-
ways and the front door. I’d almost forgotten about that.”
“Well that’s not nearly as exciting now that you’ve told
me that they’re supposed to move. But then, every time I am
carried to and from the sorting exercise, I pass through the
trophy room. There is one trophy in particular, the Award for
Special Services to the School or some nonsense that glows every
time I pass it. It is rather strange.”
“Could you repeat that?” Harry asked, suddenly very
interested in the story.
“You should listen better. I said that the Award for
Special Services to the School glows.”
“Ron, didn’t you constantly spit out slugs when you
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were cleaning it?”

“Yeah. My condition seemed to get worse every time I
touched it. Do you think that maybe—”
“Yes, I really do,” Harry replied. He turned to the
Sorting Hat with a bow and a smile. “Thanks, Sorting Hat,
you’ve been a great help.”
“I’m glad to be of service. Could you put me back up
on my shelf?” Ron placed the Sorting Hat back on the shelf.
They left the room quickly, briefly mumbling that Professor
McGonagall was free to enter her room once more. Ron was the
first to reach the trophy room and he directed them towards the
award that Voldemort had won in his youth.
“Be careful, Harry. Don’t touch it just yet,” Hermione
advised. “I was thinking about what happened to Ron when he
kept throwing up slugs. It must be that it takes whatever condi-
tion ails you and magnifies it upon contact.”
“So basically, if there is anything wrong with me, it is
about to get a whole lot worse.”
“Exactly. We’ll be ready to help you if you falter. Are you
ready?” Hermione asked, her voice straining with the tension of
the moment.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Harry grabbed hold of the
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Horcrux with his left hand, pulling it off of the two hooks that
held it to the wall. Immediately the wound through which
Hermione had removed blood earlier opened up. At first, blood
streamed out of his body in a slow trickle, but soon the trickle
turned into a stream. Harry’s face was contorted with agony,
every breath that he took a struggle just to survive the pains of
Tom Riddle’s award.
Hermione and Ron could only watch in fear as Harry
began to lose more and more blood. His face became paler, and
his shouts of pain softened in his exhaustion. “Harry, remove the
Horcrux before it kills you!” Ron screamed, desperate to save his
friend. He was about to grab him and pull the Horcrux away
when Hermione stopped him.
“Harry’s got to do this on his own, Ron. He’ll never be
able to face You-Know-Who if he doesn’t.”
Harry could barely see out of his eyes. His friends’ faces
became hazier and hazier and he could no longer make out
distinct sounds. There was a throbbing pain in his right arm,
and he felt feverish. He twisted his wand towards the Horcrux
in the midst of his convulsions and silently muttered, “Necare
Horcrux!” A gray shadow flew from the Award for Special
Services to the School, wailing in agony as it burst into billions
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of pieces and dissolved into the air. A large crack appeared

across the front of the award. Harry fell to the ground in a heap,
the award falling from his grasp into a pool of blood on the
floor. He could not feel the touch of Ron and Hermione as they
carried his lifeless body to the hospital wing. His insides were on
fire with incredible pain, but in some part of him he knew that
he had just destroyed one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and that he
was one step closer to completing his impossible task.
* * *
Harry opened his eyes slowly, and looked around uncer-
tainly. The last thing he could remember was a long flash of
pain, and his collapsing onto a pool of his own blood. “It is
good to see you awake, Harry,” a voice called to him from the
next bed over.
“Draco?” Harry asked in surprise.
“Well, who else would it be, numbskull. Have some
chocolate. It will make you feel loads better.”
“I’ll handle that, Malfoy,” Hermione offered coldly
as she took the chocolate from him. “How are you feeling,
Harry?”
“Much better, thank you.” He glanced over at his right
arm, uncertainly. “I guess that’s stopped bleeding. Did I do it?”
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“You succeeded. It’s gone.”

“What did it look like?” Harry asked in excitement.
“I don’t know. I was too busy looking at you to see it.
Ron, did you get a good look?”
“Yeah. It was some sort of a gray, shadowy thing. It must
have broken into a million pieces when it was released, so I guess
it’s gone for good.”
“What’s gone for good? Why are you so cryptic? I’m not
working for Him anymore if that’s why.”
“It has nothing to do with that. It’s just, well, Professor
Dumbledore asked us not to tell anyone, no matter what, you
know, before you helped murder him,” Harry replied in anger.
“I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. I guess you haven’t
heard the whole story yet, being unconscious for three days
have you. Well, around a week ago, You-Know-Who ordered
me to free my father from Azkaban. I did, no questions asked.
Just after, he kills my father and my mother and tries to kill me.
I escaped, but just barely. He sent Nagini after me—you know
who that is, right—and she bit me. The wound is still there. So
I came to the one place I knew would help me, no matter what
horrors I committed in my past. Hogwarts.”
“So Voldemort killed your parents too, but that doesn’t
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let you off the hook for everything you’ve done.” Malfoy shud-
dered at the name. “I’m not sure that I can trust you just yet.”
“I know there is some bad blood between us, Potter, but
maybe I can prove to you that I am a better person now, and
that I truly am sorry. I thought that Professor Snape would help
me, but he just used his power to help the Dark Lord destroy
my family.”
“The Dark Lord? You still call him that?” Harry asked,
pleased to see that Malfoy might not be reformed after all.
“Old habits die hard.” Malfoy grinned nervously.
“Exactly, and that is why we can’t trust you, at least until
you’ve proven your worth. Dumbledore trusted Snape, and look
where that got him.”
“I will help you, and you will see that I am truly a
changed man.”
291
Chapter Nineteen
In the Locket’s Grip
Although Harry and Draco were both feeling much

better after a few days’ rest, Professor McGonagall ordered
them to stay in the hospital. It would be hard to explain the
sudden appearance of Harry Potter and a former Death Eater
at Hogwarts. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione were far less well-
known students, and were therefore given a freer reign of the
school, as Professor McGonagall quickly came up with the story
that Ron had taken a semester at Durmstrang and Hermione
at Beauxbatons. This, of course, was complete hogwash, but
when other students heard of the supposed semester abroad,
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I N T HE LO C K E T ’ S
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GRIP
they all asked to participate in the program as well. Professor

McGonagall, amidst the endless interruptions during her
Transfiguration classes, vowed never to lie on behalf of anyone
else again.
“Hermione, would you pass me the locket again?” Harry
asked as he put down Hufflepuff ’s Cup. Harry continued his
quest with renewed vigor, a combination of his success of a few
days earlier and the fact that he had not felt healthier in a long
time. “Thanks. You didn’t spot any markings on it, did you?”
“No, no Ancient Runes as far as I can tell. It seems to
only have that ‘S’ shape on the front, and that’s about it. It
doesn’t even look as though it has a place for it to open. There
is clearly a hinge, but it looks as though it is fused shut.” She
shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “How’s your arm doing?”
“It feels fine, but there is no way that this mark is ever
going to disappear.” He pointed to a large dot of inflamed flesh
on his upper right arm, where Hermione had drawn a little
blood. Voldemort, through his Horcrux, had taken far more
of it. “It’s funny that Dumbledore told me that the sacrifice of
blood is both crude and ineffective. There are far better ways to
disable your enemies and to protect your prized artifacts.” Harry
still refused to use the word Horcrux until Malfoy was either out
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of earshot or until he proved himself worthy of the knowledge.

“I honestly don’t know what Dumbledore was talking
about,” he continued. “The loss of blood nearly killed me, and
if that didn’t do it, I’m sure Filch would. It seems like I made a
large mess on the trophy room floor.”
“None larger. It would have taken Ron ten times as
many slugs to equal what you donated to the trophy room.
They can’t even get all the blood off the floor. Something about
the magic is binding a thin layer of blood to the floor, and until
Professor Flitwick has a free afternoon, it looks like your blood
is going to be a permanent part of the trophy room. Filch tried
covering it up with a rug, but it keeps soaking through.”
“Does anyone suspect anything?” Malfoy chimed in,
hoping to be included in the discussion.
“I told them Peeves poured a potion on the floor and
it doesn’t seem to come off.” Harry looked at her as though
she were crazy. “It was the best I could come up with on such
short notice. Romilda Vane said she heard that you were back in
school and that you were bleeding all over the floor. She wanted
to take some of your blood with her.” Hermione made a face. “I
guess someone must have seen you.”
“There is nothing we can do about that now. Just lie the
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GRIP
best you can. Professor McGonagall says that if someone knows

that we are here, we are going to have a hard time leaving when
the time comes. At least, Professor McGonagall came up with
stories for you two.”
“I know, I know. I’m graduating early and Ron is going
to work with his brothers.” Just then, Ron barged into the hos-
pital wing.
“I just finished a private transfiguration class with
Professor McGonagall. We were transforming rolling pins into
snakes. Can I see the locket, Harry?”
Harry threw the locket gently to Ron. “Yep, just like I
thought. I looked at this for hours while you were asleep, Harry.
I figured we’ve got to get the jump on this when you wake up.
Look at the top of the ‘S.’”Harry stood next to Ron and looked
at the locket. “Do you see how it is slightly thicker than the rest
of the letter?” Harry nooded. “I think that it is supposed to be
a snake.”
“I think you’re right. Hermione, take a look at this.”
Hermione peered into the locket, immediately nodding
her head in agreement. “It sounds good to me, but how…” She
paused, a ray of light coming into her eyes. “Oh, you’ve just got
to talk to it.”Harry placed the locket around his neck. Open,
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Harry spoke softly in Parseltongue. The locket opened at the

hinge, a powerful stream of light emanating from the inside and
engulfing Harry. Malfoy, unsure of what was about to happen,
leapt from his bed and grabbed the locket. Their two bodies
fell to the floor in a heap, but their minds had entered the now
closed locket.
“Harry,” Malfoy called, unable to see through mist.
“Ron, Hermione, is anyone here?” He sent up a shower of red
sparks into the air, hoping that someone would find him.
“Are those yours?” Harry called to him as he came into
view. “You shouldn’t have done that. We may not be alone
here.”
“But I couldn’t find you.”
“No matter. Just stay on your guard. I know it’s hard
to see here, but whatever you do, don’t follow the lights. I’ve
already had a tussle with a few Hinkypunks.” He gestured to
the tears on his robes.
“Are you all right?” Malfoy asked, concerned for Harry’s
welfare as though it were his own. If Harry died, Malfoy felt that
there was no chance of escaping this place.
“Fine. Listen, you have to do whatever I tell you, no
matter what, okay? This could mean life or death for the both
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GRIP
of us, and personally, I don’t want to die just yet. I saw a castle
up ahead, but to get to it we have to follow along the outer edge
of a marsh. Any questions?”
“Just one. Do you know where we are?” Malfoy asked,
his voice becoming sturdier as the initial shock of finding him-
self no longer in Hogwarts left him.
“I think we are in the locket, or at least our minds are.
In order to leave, I think we are going to have to destroy that
Horcrux anyways.”
“A Horcrux? What’s that?” Malfoy asked, grinning now
that he might finally be in on what was going on with Harry.
“I might as well tell you now because if we make it out
of here alive, I’ll trust you, and if we don’t, we’re both going to
be taking the secret to our graves anyway. A Horcrux is a piece
of Voldemort’s soul. As of yet, I have destroyed three of the six
Horcruxes. The locket, which we are in right now, is the next
piece of his soul that I need to destroy. The other two pieces
are the cup that we have in the hospital wing, and the snake,
Nagini, that bit you. Only after I destroy all of these Horcruxes
will I be able to kill Voldemort.”
“And we are here to destroy the one inside the locket.”
“Yes. I’m guessing that it is located in the castle up
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ahead, so I think that it would be in our best interest to con-

tinue. After all, we don’t know what will happen to our bodies
if our minds are not in them for a long time.”
They walked in silence for most of the way. They took
the occasional rest when they got tired, caught each other when
they were about to stumble, and always, always, looked away
from the lights. Both Harry and Draco kept their wands gripped
tightly in their right hand, peering through the mist as much as
possible. When they finally reached the castle, they had to crane
their necks to see the top of the front wall. There appeared to be
no door, and despite using all the spells and physical force they
could think of, no door appeared.
“Harry,” Malfoy suggested, taking a deep breath as he
did so. “I think we have to climb.” He took hold of a long vine
that was hanging from the top of the wall and began to climb
up. “I’ll call down to you when I get up there. We can’t have
you risk your life for no reason.” Harry was about to protest but
accepted the reason behind Draco’s decision.
“Send some green sparks when you make it. Good luck.”
He shook Draco’s right hand and sent him on his way. A long
time later, after hearing numerous scrapes and scratches, bright
green sparks flew into the air. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
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Please, let me scale this wall, he whispered in Parseltongue. Two

long vines grabbed him about the arms and in one swift motion,
lifted him atop the wall. When he reached the top, they hissed,
and slithered back down the wall.
“That was fast,” Malfoy joked, completely surprised by
Harry’s sudden arrival.
“I think they weren’t vines, but snakes. I must have spo-
ken to them in Parseltongue accidentally. That made my trip
rather easy. Are you okay, though?”
“Yeah, never better. That was a right good bit of exercise,
but I’d like to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“I don’t blame you. Have you checked out the door up
ahead?”
“I haven’t had any time. You only arrived up here
moments after I had.”
“Then we’ll look at it together.” Harry walked to the
door, opened it, and the two of them stepped through. The
door closed behind them with a loud bang, and it seemed that
it would not reopen no matter what they did. The hall lit up
before them, and Harry could barely make out a large gray
shadow floating at the end of the very long hallway.
Harry took one step forward, and immediately a large
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pit of fire opened up beneath him. Malfoy grabbed his hand and
pulled him back up. “Thanks. I could have been toast.”
“You mean like that man down there?” Malfoy replied,
pointing at the charred corpse of Regulus Black. The face was
too blackened to be identifiable, but the Black Family Crest was
unmistakable.
“That’s Regulus Black. He must have died in here while
trying to destroy the Horcrux. But how are we going to get
across?”
“I’m not sure we are supposed to, Harry. Maybe we are
supposed to destroy the Horcrux from here.”
“But there is no way I can aim my spell that well, and if
I miss, who knows what is going to happen.”
“There’s only one way to find out. I think that together
we should be able to stop it. Don’t be afraid, Harry. At least you
won’t die alone.”
“A pleasant thought.” He smiled grimly. “Necare
Horcrux!” he yelled, pointing his wand at the gray shadow
before him. He missed, and the shadow materialized into a
silvery shade. It moved towards Harry and Malfoy to attack
them. “Draco, slow it down. I’ll keep trying to hit it with Necare
Horcrux!” He shot another spell at the quickly moving mass, but
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it darted about too quickly for him to be able to stop it.

“Impedimentia! Impedimentia! Impedimentia!” Draco
shouted, and the shadow slowed down to a near stop. “I can’t
keep it like this for much longer, Harry. Take the shot.”
“Necare Horcrux!” The shadow burst into thousands of
pieces and dissipated into the air. The door behind them opened
and they were sucked out, out above the castle into the sky, and
finally, out of the locket.
The once lifeless bodies of Harry and Malfoy blinked
their eyes and stood up. “The locket doesn’t close anymore,”
Harry commented, fiddling with it as though nothing had hap-
pened.
Malfoy looked at his right hand and wiggled his fingers,
happy to once again be inside his body. “Harry, my hand.” He
held up his right hand to reveal an imprint of a snake that scarred
the flesh. “Take a look at your chest.” There was similar scar on
Harry’s chest. “I guess we’re blood brothers now,” Malfoy joked,
grinning sheepishly.
“I guess so But where did Ron and Hermione go?”
“To class, probably,” Malfoy suggested as he saw Ron
and Hermione in the doorway. “It would be just like them to
hang us out to dry.”
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“Not quite, Draco,” Ron retorted as he entered the

room. “We were getting Professor McGonagall and Madame
Pomfrey. We left as soon as you had collapsed, but it’s only been
five minutes. You must have recovered quickly.”
“Really? It feels like hours to me,” Harry replied, slightly
bewildered.
“That’s odd. Time must flow differently inside the lock-
et. Good thing too, because I’d hate to think what would have
happened to your bodies if you had vacated them for hours,”
Hermione added.
“How did you know we were in the locket?” Harry
asked.
“Where else could you be?” Hermione replied.
“I’ve always underestimated you, Granger. It appears
that you are not as dumb as I once thought.” Malfoy looked
sincere.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hermione answered
stiffly.
“Good, because I meant it as one.”
“It’s good to see you are all right,” Professor McGonagall
stated warmly as she entered into the room. “But I think that
it is time that we have had a talk about this Horcrux business.
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Professor Dumbledore has agreed with me, and he suggested

that I speak to you about this with Professor Slughorn, Professor
Moody and Hagrid. Come with me, Potter.”
“They are coming as well.” He pointed to Ron,
Hermione, and Malfoy.
“Yes, of course. Ginny is waiting for you in my office
already. I believe that she assisted you in finding one of the
Horcruxes. I am giving her the benefit of the doubt, of course.
Otherwise, I can’t think of a way to forgive her for missing three
days of school in the middle of the term. She can never get back
those hours that she spent in detention already, but at the very
least she will no longer have detention all day Saturday until the
end of the year.”
“That’s true. She came with me to get Helga Huffle-
puff ’s Cup, and were it not for her, I would have been unable
to retrieve it.”
The four part-time students followed Professor
McGonagall to her large office and sat down at the large table
with Ginny, Professor Slughorn, Professor Moody and Hagrid.
Harry gave Ginny a brief kiss on the cheek as he took his seat
next to her. McGonagall began speaking in a firm, no-nonsense
manner. “We are here to discuss the nature of Horcruxes, their
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removal, and the upcoming battle against He-Who-Must-Not-

Be-Named. Professor Slughorn, I’m sure you already know
what a Horcrux is. For Hagrid, they might remain somewhat
of a mystery. A Horcrux is a piece of a soul that can be created
only by the most terrible deed, murder. Horcruxes are stored in
certain objects. Harry has taken it upon himself to destroy the
Horcruxes that You-Know-Who has created.” Harry nodded. “If
you would be so kind as to give us an update of where you are
in your current task, we would be much obliged.”
“Of course. At the moment, I am in possession of all
but the last Horcrux, and many of the Horcruxes are destroyed.
In my second year, I destroyed Tom Marvolo Riddle’s Diary,
one of six Horcruxes that he created. I did not know that at the
time, but Professor Dumbledore told me about this last year.
Profes-sor Dumbledore destroyed the ring of Marvolo Gaunt,
another one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes the summer before my
sixth year. For the past few months, I have struggled to collect
the remaining Horcruxes, and with the exception of one, I have
succeeded.
“A few days ago, I destroyed the Horcrux held within
Tom Riddle’s Award for Special Services to the School. Just
now, moments before I arrived here, Draco Malfoy, a one-time
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Death Eater, helped me to destroy the Horcrux held within

Salazaar Slytherin’s locket. I now know how Dumbledore must
have felt after witnessing Snape’s apparent turn away from the
Death Eaters. I am now certain that Draco Malfoy has redeemed
himself. I know that there is very little reason to trust him, but
Voldemort killed his parents and I truly believe him to have
changed for the better.
“In my pocket, I carry the cup of Helga Hufflepuff,
another vessel in which Voldemort placed his Horcrux. The
final Horcrux, the one that I have yet to destroy, is Nagini,
Voldemort’s snake. Voldemort keeps her very close to him at
all times, so I believe that we will have to kill Nagini at almost
the same time as I must confront Voldemort. At the moment,
Viktor Krum is training students at Durmstrang for the fight
against Voldemort. I hope that Fleur Delacour is at Beauxbatons
with Bill, doing the same. I know that Professor Moody has
already approved of this program, and that Hogwarts students
are being trained as we speak.”
“Yes. The training is actually going better than expected.
There have been very few injuries, and there are some first years
and second years who are very adept at the healing arts.” Alastor
Moody’s eyeball swiveled as he spoke. “I’m not sure that there
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will be enough time to have a well-trained army, but I think that

our forces should be able to do the trick. The first round of com-
petition is on Monday, and I think that Gryffindor is shaping up
nicely, even though they are short a few of their top students.”
He grinned lopsidedly to Hermione. “Professor Slughorn has
something to report as well.”
“Yes, I’ve made numerous batches of potion for Nagini’s
snake bite. We should be able to cure anyone who is attacked in
that manner. I am also working to procure some anti-Werewolf
weaponry. It would be useful to have some silver stakes with us,
just in case.”
“Agreed,” Hermione replied, speaking for the first time.
“I’d like to speak about something else for a moment, however.
These Horcruxes cause irreparable damage to those who attempt
to destroy them. Harry now has a scar on his right arm, and as
I have just found out, a snakelike imprint on his chest. Draco
bears a similar imprint on his right hand. These Horcruxes are
taking a toll on Harry’s body, a toll that may make it hard for
him to do his duty later.”
“Harry, do you feel that is true?” Professor Slughorn
asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“Yes, but—”
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“But you feel that this is your duty and that you, and
only you, should be the one to destroy the Horcruxes?”
“Yes.” Harry nodded.
“I agree. The destruction of these Horcruxes is a method
of preparation for Harry. If he cannot do this, can he really be
the one to defeat Voldemort? This task was assigned to you, and
you alone. The cup is the final Horcrux that you possess, and
it will take all your effort to destroy it, but then you can rest.
Nagini, all you need to do is kill her It will be simple, perhaps
the easiest Horcrux that you will face. If you can destroy these
Horcruxes, Harry Potter, then you will truly be the Chosen
One.”
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Chapter Twenty
Gargle a Poison
It had been days since the meeting, and Harry still had
not figured out how to remove the Horcrux from Hufflepuff ’s
cup. He had drunk from it numerous times, but all that occurred
was that he felt a cold chill pass down his spine. “Hermione, did
you find out anything about Helga Hufflepuff ’s Cup?” Harry
asked for the third time that evening. After realizing the ques-
tions that could arise when Harry and Draco returned to their
dormitories, Professor McGonagall instead emptied one of the
large storage rooms of the castle and built a makeshift bedroom
with a long curtain down the middle. Draco, Harry and Ron
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shared one side of the room, and Hermione had the other side
all to herself.
“Nothing, as of yet. I just finished rereading Hogwarts, A
History, and although in alludes to the cup frequently, it makes
no mention of its powers. There are footnotes that point to
some possible reference material, but the library closes in just a
few minutes. I’ll have to go first thing in the morning.”
“Fine, then you can help me piece together these Daily
Prophet articles too. If we can just follow where Nagini has been
going, we’ll be able to find You-Know-Who,” Ron suggested,
as he shuffled through more newspapers. “It seems that Nagini
has been busy recently. There are numerous accounts of snake-
bites, all of which are on a trail leading somewhere east. Her
movements have been somewhat erratic, but that is the general
direction.”
“It says here that there was a horrible incident in Ash-
ford, with a Muggle dying within seconds of being bitten. In-
vestigators found two marks on the man’s neck, both of which
were extremely deep. It sounds like Nagini all right. And where
was she before that?” Harry put down the newspaper he had just
been reading from and looked over at Ron.
“Hastings was the last big town before Ashford. There
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were a few small attacks in between, but she definitely seems to

be going east. My guess is that she’s on her way to Canterbury
or Dover, but it is hard to tell. We should know for sure in a day
or two,” Draco concluded.
“Fine. Hermione, have you got a map of England?”
“No, not with me. Why?”
“I’d like to get a sense of how quickly Nagini travels,”
Harry answered. “I’ll just ask Dobby to bring us one. Dobby!”
A House Elf in a red bowler’s cap, a toga and two oddly
colored socks appeared. “Yes, Master Harry.”
“Dobby, just call me Harry. Please.” Harry could not
help but smile at Dobby’s ridiculous outfit.
“Yes, Harry Potter. What do you want me to do?”
“Could I ask a favor of you?” Harry asked.
“Anything, Harry Potter. I would do anything to help
you,” Dobby replied with pride.
“Thank you. I was hoping that you could bring us a
map of England.” Before Harry had finished saying England,
Dobby had vanished and returned with a large map of the
United Kingdom.
“Anything else, Harry Potter?” Dobby asked, handing
Harry the map.
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“Yes. I was wondering if we could have dinner delivered

to our room. Professor McGonagall does not want us to be in
the Great Hall unnecessarily. It would only attract attention to
our presence.
“Naturally, Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley has already
explained to me that you needed dinner in your room. She is
going to be joining you shortly. In fact, I was just about to get
your dinner ready when you called me.”
“Thank you, Dobby. Perhaps we can eat together some
time, when I am not so busy.”
“That would be excellent, Harry Potter.” Dobby bowed,
the bowler’s cap falling from his head. He caught it deftly with
one hand, and vanished into the air.
“I really don’t approve of your exploiting House Elves
like this,” Hermione scolded once Dobby had left.
“I wasn’t exploiting him. I needed his help, so I asked
for it. It would be exactly like asking Ginny for help, except that
Dobby can do it much faster. Besides, I said thank you numer-
ous times,” Harry replied in annoyance. “We’re too busy right
now to focus on SPEW, but if you would like to start up again
once Voldemort is defeated, by all means feel free.”
Hermione looked away from him and reopened Hogwarts,
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A History to her favorite chapter. She was halfway through the

first page when Ginny came barging through the door. “Guess
who’s here. It’s Viktor Krum. He said that he wants to talk
to Harry about the training at Durmstrang. He’s in Professor
McGonagall’s office. Put on your Invisibility Cloak.”
“Can I come we come with him?” Ron asked.
“Sure. Dobby!” Ginny shouted, the small house elf pop-
ping into view. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but we need the
food delivered to Professor McGonagall’s office instead,” Ginny
replied.
“Of course, Miss Weasley. Anything I could do to help,”
Dobby replied with a bow. A moment later he had vanished.
“Draco, I think you should get under the Invisibility
Cloak with me.”
“No need. Professor McGonagall just imposed an early
curfew. Don’t worry; it doesn’t apply to us. Students need to
be in their common rooms by seven o’clock. Most students
are too exhausted from the training sessions to be out at night
anyway.”
“Then why am I getting under the Invisibility Cloak?”
Harry asked in confusion.
“The people in the paintings probably won’t notice
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Draco, but you? There is no way that Sir Cadigan isn’t going
to be able to see who you are. And he is just about the biggest
blabbermouth there is, after Peeves, of course.”
“Harry, it is a pleasure to see you again,” said Krum, qui-
etly greeting Harry as he entered the Headmaster’s office. Every
time Harry entered this office, he felt a chill pass down his spine
as he remembered where his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, once
taught Harry his lessons. Harry and Krum shook hands politely
before sitting down opposite one another at the large table filled
with food. “I vanted to speak to you about the training schedule
and the program I have instituted at my school.”
“Professor McGonagall, is Professor Moody coming to
the meeting?” Harry asked as he searched the room.
“Yes,” she replied. “He’s meeting Bill and Fleur at their
carriage. Just wait a few moments until they arrive.”
“Fine. I just hope they hurry,” Harry replied impatiently.
“Professor McGonagall, do you know of any unique properties
of Helga Hufflepuff ’s Cup?”
“No. That is not really my area of expertise. You are free
to browse the shelves of my office in the meantime,” she offered.
Hermione immediately got up from her chair and began to look
around the office. There were not nearly as many books as in the
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Hogwarts library, but unlike the organization of Madame Pince,

it appeared that Dumbledore had shelved his books wherever
they fit.
“I’d try looking at the books by his desk if I were you,”
Ron suggested. “I mean, if Dumbledore knew that the cup was a
Horcrux, then there is a pretty good chance that he kept a book
relating to it near his desk. Has Borgin written any books?”
“No, but…Harry, didn’t Borgin give you a scroll?”
Hermione asked, suddenly remembering piece of parchment
entirely in Ancient Runes.
“Yes. I’d forgotten about it entirely.” Harry pulled it out
of the inside pocket of his robes. “Here, Hermione. Take a look
at it.”
“It has what we are looking for!” she shouted in excite-
ment as she read the page. “Listen. It contains information
about the four artifacts of the four founders of Hogwarts.
Godric Gryffindor left behind a sword of great power, one that
was so heavily enchanted that it was not only indestructible,
but made of silver. This enables the bearer to quickly dispatch
werewolves and vampires. Salazaar Slytherin created the locket,
which you, of course, have already destroyed. Inside was an
entirely contained world, a world designed to entrap those who
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are unworthy of…I can’t make that word out. The parchment
is too faded.”
“It is probably something having to do with being a
pureblood,” Draco suggested.
“That would seem appropriate. It also states that Helga
Hufflepuff ’s Cup strengthens any spells cast by the holder of
it. In order for it to work, the person must hold liquid drunk
from the cup in his mouth while casting the spell.” She looked
up from the parchment. “I guess it has to be nonverbal.” She
looked carefully at the next lines, and in surprise, looked at
them closely again. “That’s odd. It says that Rowena Ravenclaw’s
artifact was never found and that it remains a mystery until
this day. There is some speculation, however, that she created
a blue phoenix after her favorite color. As of yet, there are no
blue phoenix sightings.” Hermione paused and then added
thoughtfully, “I wonder why Borgin would have had this in the
first place.”
“He said that Voldemort gave it to him. It must have
been some sort of emergency plan, some way of ensuring that he
could revive himself. If he were killed, well not really killed, but
you know what I mean, then a loyal Death Eater could figure
out some way of reviving him, using this information. Does it
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say anything about Horcruxes?”

“Nothing, but the scroll is pretty badly torn at the
bottom. It seems to be missing some of the text. Whatever
the case may be, we’ve got the information that we need.”
Hermionerolled the scroll up and handed it back to Harry. “Just
in time. Bill and Fleur have just arrived.”
“‘Arry,” Fleur called as she entered the room, kissing him
lightly on the check. “Eet eez so good to see you.” She and Bill
took the pair of seats on Krum’s right-hand side, and Alastor sat
to Krum’s left.
“Good. Now that we are all here, let’s do our reports,”
Alastor ordered, quickly dispensing with the usual pleasantries.
“Mr. Krum, why don’t you go first.”
“Please, call me Viktor.”
“Fine, Viktor. Please call me Professor Moody.”
“Okay. I have been teaching my students to fight, and
I think, for the most part, things have been going vell. I have
three very strong teams of students, but there are two teams that
are not so good. On the whole, ve are much better offensively
than defensively and not many of our students are good healers.
I have taught my students the basics of good fighting, but ve
need to vork on using spells that have more power. Professor, do
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you think that it is all right if I teach them Dark Magic? It is a

tradition that has died since Karkaroff ’s disappearance, but one
that I think is necessary for my students’ survival.”
“I think it would be all right,” Professor Moody said,
nodding. “Harry?”
“I agree, but teach them anything too evil, and do not
have them practice these spells on each other. Create some dum-
mies, or use one of the common animals in your country. I’d
say that you should avoid anything more potent than the spell
Sectumsempra, but please teach them what you see fit.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
“I think that my team would work well with zat of
Viktor Krum. Ze girls are exceptional at ze healing arts and ze
defensive spells, but not so much ze fighting. Ze boys are not
skilled at attacking as well. Ze focus at Beauxbatons is charms,
not ze Defense Against ze Dark Arts. If we work together, zen
ze battle will be much easier.” Fleur gave Professor Moody a
dazzling smile.
“Good. This is working out well. Hogwarts has a much
more balanced group. We have both healers and fighters, but
because so many parents have kept their students home this year,
our student population is much smaller than usual,” Professor
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Moody added.
“Is that all?” Harry asked. “It seems like a lot of work to
get everyone together for such a short meeting.”
“Actually, there is one thing that I vould like to ask you,
Harry.”
“And what would that be, Krum?”
“How soon do my students need to be ready?” Krum
asked, a look of fierce determination on his face.
“I think that it would be helpful if they were ready by
the end of this week. As soon as I finish what I need to do here,
I am going to find Nagini. Voldemort will undoubtedly be with
her.”
“This veek? That doesn’t leave us much time,” Krum
complained.
“Well, you’d better hurry then. Remember to look at
your galleon, Krum. Fleur,” Harry added, throwing her a gal-
leon, “When you see this galleon activated, it’ll display where
to find us. Bill, get the Order, or at least what’s left of it, ready.
Remember, we’ve only got one chance at this.”
Once the Professors, Bill, Fleur, and Krum left Professor
McGonagall’s office, Harry pulled out the cup. “Get ready to
catch me if I fall. Something tells me the water isn’t going to
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taste sweet when I hold it in my mouth.” Harry filled the cup

with water and took a long, hard gulp, careful not to sallow. He
closed his lips tightly, careful not to let any of the water drip out.
Already, a bitter, fiery taste was rising in his mouth. He closed
his eyes in pain. This was far worse than the pain endured dur-
ing the removal from the Horcrux in the award already, and
Harry knew that the dizziness that he was feeling was not going
to subside any time soon. Necare Horcrux! he thought as hard
as he could as he pointed at the cup, but nothing happened.
Necare Horcrux! Necare Horcrux! Nothing happened, and Harry
began to feel the muscles in his throat tighten up. It was becom-
ing harder and harder to breathe. NECARE HORCRUX! he
shouted inside his mind emptying it of all thoughts but that one
phrase. A wide hole opened in the base of the cup, releasing a
gray shadow into the air. It shattered and dissolved immediately,
but Harry could not see it.
Hermione pried Harry’s mouth open and patted him
hard on the back, causing the water to fly out of his mouth and
onto the floor. She pushed the half-conscious Harry into a large
armchair nearby. “Ginny, pass me the cup,” she said, shaking her
head. “I wonder how much more his poor body can take.”
Ginny handed Hermione the cup as she watched Harry
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wither away on the chair. Hermione took a large swig of water,

keeping it in her mouth between tightly locked lips. She silently
cast every healing spell she could think of, and by some miracle,
the added power of the cup was enough to slowly heal Harry’s
poisoned body. Ginny cried silently as she watched the dying
Harry come back slowly to life.
“Ginny,” Harry whispered when he once again found
his voice. Ginny rushed over to him and kissed him firmly on
the mouth.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.
“I thought that you would lose me too,” he replied,
smiling weakly.
“Harry, have a bit of chocolate,” Ron offered, doing his
best not to see the love in his sister’s eyes. “I sound like Professor
Lupin.” He handed Harry a square of chocolate, and watched
as his friend’s aching jaws chewed it slowly. “I think that you
should rest up a bit before we go after Nagini.”
Harry moved to get up, but his arms could not support
his weight. “Well, I did give them a week to get ready. Who
would have thought that I’d need that much time too?”
“You won’t, if my theory is correct,” Hermione said. “I
believe that if you just hold liquid from the cup in your mouth,
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it will help heal your body.”

“I’m not so sure that I would like to go through that
again,” Harry joked, but then added in more serious tone. “The
pain the cup caused me was unbearable.”
“It was fine when I used it,” Hermione argued. “I don’t
want you to take a week to get better if I can help it. You may
have just destroyed almost half of You-Know-Who’s soul, but it
is going to be the final one that will be the true challenge. You
haven’t done any spellwork for nearly a month. I think that you
should work with Professor Moody privately, and perhaps we
can join Gryffindor’s team in one of the mock battles—assum-
ing Professor McGonagall will let us out in plain sight. The first
step to killing You-Know-Who is reaching him in battle, and
if you fall when you are attacked by a Death Eater, then what
chance do the rest of us have?”
“You’ve convinced me.” Harry smiled broadly. “Pour
some water into my mouth. I’m not going to be able to hold
the cup myself.” Ginny poured the cup of water into Harry’s
mouth, making sure that he shut his lips lightly. Five minutes
later, Harry swallowed the water and lifted himself from the
chair. “You’re right, Hermione. It’s a miracle cure. I can actu-
ally walk again. Ron, can I have a bit more chocolate?” Harry
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hobbled over to Ron slowly, holding himself up against the edge

of the table. “I think I’d like to go to bed.”
* * *
“Have we packed everything up?” Harry asked, eyeing
the trunk full of items at his feet.
“I believe so. We packed Slughorn’s medicine, the cup,
the locket, the award, and all of our books,” Ron replied, peer-
ing into the trunk.
“Do you have the latest information in the Daily
Prophet?” Harry asked Ron, who was holding the newspaper
clippings.
“There have been a series of attacks just outside of
Dover. They appear most recently to have been near Saint
Margaret’s Bay. That’s where we are headed. Hermione, punch
that into your galleon and activate it.”
“Hagrid has got a carriage waiting to take us to
Hogsmeade. He says that the Order will meet us as soon as
we arrive. They don’t want us going to fight You-Know-Who
alone,” Ginny added as she entered the storage room where
they lived for the past week. “Malfoy is already with Hagrid,
apologizing and the like. I think that he is genuinely sorry for
all the trouble he caused Hagrid the past few years. He even got
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a chance to pet Witherwings.”

“Great. Ron, could you give me a hand with this?” Harry
asked as he lifted up the trunk. He and Ron carried it out the
front door and loaded it onto the carriage, where Hagrid stood
watching with his pink umbrella, his eyes brightening at the
sight of his old students. “I’ll see you in Dover!” Harry shouted
as he gave Hagrid a hug. “Give Grawp my best.”
“Tell him yourself, Harry. He’s coming with the Order,”
Hagrid replied with a big smile. Harry climbed into the carriage
and sat down next to Ginny and Malfoy. Moments later, they
were on their way.
When they reached Hogsmeade, the five Hogwarts
students stepped out of the carriage, lugging the trunk behind
them. “Has everyone passed their apparition test?” Harry asked,
realizing that he wasn’t sure of his friends’ magical abilities.
Ginny shook her head no. “Okay, Ginny. grab my hand. Ron,
Hermione, you make sure you bring the trunk with you.” In
unison, the five heroes turned in a circle and with a resounding
crack reappeared in Dover.
Harry looked out over the white cliffs, the wind blowing
his hair about wildly. Harry saw that Durmstrang, to his right,
in dark robes, were already assembling its fighting force. To his
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left, the Beauxbaton students were assembling in their light blue

cloaks as well. Behind him, stood the Order of the Phoenix.
Without Dumbledore, the Order seemed so much smaller, and
weaker, but they seemed to be enough to lead the students into
battle. Unlike in the Department of Mysteries just two years
earlier, the Order would not find itself fighting a horde of Death
Eaters with just a few students as its ally.
All at once, the entire field was silent. Harry turned
around to see what had happened, but it was already clear.
Right above their heads, in the full moon of the dark night
sky, shone the bright green of the Dark Mark. Harry smiled to
himself grimly as the cruel symbol slithered its tongue around
its mouth. Here, one way or another, the prophecy would be
fulfilled.
324
Chapter Twenty-One
Mortal Again
Voldemort amassed his forces on the opposite side of the

field, the side furthest away from the white cliffs of Dover. At
the forefront of his mighty army were giants. Dimwitted, but
powerful, they were a domineering force in any fight. To his
right stood his faithful Death Eaters, each one hoping to gain
some glory from this battle so that the Dark Lord would lavish
them with praise. And to his left stood the three most fearsome
creatures on the Earth: the Inferi, the Werewolves, and the
Dementors.
Harry’s forces watched in awe at the assembled forces
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of Lord Voldemort. “How do they expect us to stand up to

that?” one Hufflepuff first-year whispered to Ernie MacMillan,
the leader of the Hufflepuff portion of the army. “I mean, it’s
massive, and here we are, a bunch of school kids trying to stand
up to—”
“Will you cut the pessimism already?” Macmillan
retorted impatiently. It was clear that the impending doom in
the pit of his stomach was already getting to him “We’ll do
what we can. Potter will see that everything goes all right,” he
lied unconvincingly.
Then, without so much as a warning, Lord Voldemort’s
forces charged forward. Giants shook the ground as they ran,
small tremors breaking up the ground beneath their feet. The
Werewolves viciously howled as Fenrir Greyback led them
towards their prey. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood
hugged each other in fear, but when they let go, it was with
a hard and determined look in their eyes. “Attack!” Neville
screamed to the Gryffindors, pulling his wand from his robes
and running headlong into the oncoming horde. Cries of
“Attack!” rose up in all the voices of Harry’s comrades, and
moments after Neville began his assault, the entire forces of
Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons were running towards
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the forces of Voldemort.

Harry smiled to his four partners and the Order of the
Phoenix. “Are you ready?” he called to them.
Hagrid bowed to Harry slowly. “We are at yer service,
Harry.” Everyone else murmured their agreement.
“Lupin?” Harry asked, looking at the Werewolf that
was his former teacher. Earlier that day, Lupin had drunk the
Wolfsbane potion, granting himself the control of his own body
in the Werewolf state. Lupin growled in response. “I guess we’d
better go help them.” Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand, and with
a resounding CRACK that was not heard over the din of the
battle, the entire Order of the Phoenix apparated into the thick
of the battle.
Remus Lupin tore at the Death Eaters, dodging their
Killing Curses as he bit their necks with his long fangs. Fighting
alongside Grawp, Death Eaters were being thrown every which
way. Some were thrown into other members of Voldemort’s
army; others collapsed to the ground after being crushed by
Grawp’s large foot. Professor McGonagall turned into her cat-
like form, stealthily sneaking her way past the Giants in order to
reach the Werewolves. Green, red, and blue lights of all shades
flew in every direction, stray shots sometimes spraying those
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on the same side as the attacker. A large Giant at the front of

Voldemort’s army managed to snatch Neville in his right hand,
but a well placed and powerful Leglocker Curse on Neville’s part
caused the Giant to fall onto his back, crushing the Werewolves
that were behind him. Neville rolled out of the Giant’s now limp
hand and ran back into the fray.
Ron and Hermione were surrounded by a large group of
Inferi, protected only by the weakening ring of fire that Ron had
drawn around the two of them. Suddenly, Fenrir Greyback leapt
through the waning ring of fire, growling at the Inferi to leave
and attack elsewhere. Fenrior dove into Ron, knocking him to
the ground and trapping the young wizard beneath his claws.
As Fenrir moved towards Ron’s neck to bite him, Hermione
shot three fireballs at the vicious Werewolf, knocking him aside
with a squeal. He moved to attack again, but Ron conjured a
silver knife into his hand and waved it about. Fenrir backed off,
hoping to kill Ronald Wealsey when he was less prepared. “You
were brilliant, Hermione,” he screamed with joy, kissing her on
the mouth.
“Thank you, Ron, but—turn around! Dementors on
your left side.” Ron whipped around, and he and Hermione
together shouted, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” A sleek otter and
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large, majestic lion appeared in front of them, trying to fend off

the Dementors. “Run!” Hermione shouted as she grabbed Ron’s
hand. The two scampered over the numerous fallen Giants, and
watched with awe as one of the few remaining Werewolves,
Remus Lupin, faced Voldemort’s loyal follower, Peter Pettigrew.
Ron barely glanced at his old pet Scabbers, and instead concen-
trated on the occasional Werewolf that he trapped in the silvery
the vines sprouting from his wand. As each Werewolf fell, Ron
threw his silver knife at it, using his wand to guide the knife into
their hearts. “Carpe Retractum,” he shouted for the last time,
and watched the knife fly back into his hand once more.
Meanwhile, Lupin was finding Pettigrew a formidable
opponent. Lupin had already knocked the wand from Pettigrew’s
hand, when Grawp promptly stepped on it. Lupin, however,
couldn’t get a good bite of Pettigrew’s flesh because Pettigrew’s
silver arm kept jabbing towards Lupin. A snarl from behind
Hermione alerted her to Fenrir’s presence, and she whipped
around to face him, but he avoided her, springing for Professor
Lupin instead. “Grawp!” she shouted, almost in vain. “Pick him
up.” Grawp yanked Professor Lupin into the air, holding him
well out of Fenrir’s reach. Greyback landed on top of Pettigrew’s
outstretched silver arm, sinking his teeth into the tiny man’s face
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as they died together. Upon seeing their leader fall, the remain-
ing Werewolves fled back into the mountains, howling the sad
song of their defeat.
The Durmstrang students had clumped together in one
portion of the battlefield, Krum leading the attack against a
seemingly never ending group of Death Eaters. For every Death
Eater that fell, numerous young students fell with them. Cries
of Sectumsempra and Immobulus filled the air as Krum led his
friends and followers against Voldemort’s most loyal servants.
Already, it was clear that the Durmstrang students were tiring,
and even with all the healing that the Beauxbatons students
could offer them, their numbers began to dwindle.
Harry, Ginny, and Malfoy fought side by side, using
a combination of curses and shield charms to defeat Giants,
and the occasional Death Eater, offering the other Hogwarts
students aid whenever they needed it. Harry watched in pride
as Luna Lovegood tackled a particularly nasty Giant, tricking it
into attacking the Giant next to is with a well placed Confundus
Charm. Ginny split off from Malfoy and Harry in order to
aid Ron and Hermione against the Dementors that had now
swarmed them atop the Giant carcasses. “Malfoy, we’re sur-
rounded,” Harry announced grimly as a circle of Inferi came
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into view, blocking his path to Voldemort.

“I’ll hit them with fire. You try and figure a way out of
this.” Malfoy swished his wand in a full circle, causing a nearly
impenetrable wall of flame to rise up around them. “I can’t keep
this up for much longer, so you’d better think of something
fast.”
“I can’t right now,” Harry replied, casting another spell
at the snake near his feet. “I’m busy.”
“Doing what?” Malfoy replied bitterly.
“Killing Nagini,”Harry announced matter-of-factly,
silently hitting the snake with Sectumsempra. Nagini started to
bleed profusely from her skin, and Harry, thinking that Nagini
was dead turned away to help Malfoy. Just as Nagini was about
to strike Harry from behind, Malfoy whipped around, pushed
Harry out of the way, and screamed, “Avada Kedavra!” He was
too late. Nagini had already sunk her teeth into Malfoy’s arm,
the arm that had pushed Harry away. Malfoy’s curse struck her
a moment later, and she died instantly, the silvery ghost escaping
from her mouth.
“Thank you, Draco. Are you all right?” Harry asked with
concern, forgetting momentarily that the Inferi were beginning
to swarm the area.
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Draco could barely speak above a whisper. “Harry, I’m

dying. Nothing can save me now. Don’t forget the fire, Potter.
Mother…Father… I am so sorry. I have…failed you.” He
looked pleadingly at Harry and as Harry saw the light fade from
Draco’s eyes, he promised his new-found friend that he would
avenge Draco’s parents’ death as well as Draco’s. The last gasp of
air left his mouth, and Harry, without time for tears, swished his
wand in a whirling arc of fire, burning the Inferi as they moved
towards him. Moments later, he had apparated away from
Malfoy’s limp corpse and arrived on top of the Giant carcasses
to help his surviving friends.
“Malfoy’s dead,” he announced, waving his wand to fend
of the attacking Dementors. None of the others reacted. They
just continued pushing the Dementors aside in resignation.
“How do you kill one of these things? They’re going to exhaust
us if we don’t do something soon. At least Hagrid is keeping up
his end against the last few Giants.” Harry looked away from the
Dementors for a moment to see a large pink umbrella waving
around in the middle of the battlefield, the tip of which was fir-
ing hexes in all directions. Voldemort and Snape remained just
out of reach at the other end of the battlefield, and most of the
Death Eaters had already been disabled or killed. A small group
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of seventh year Hogwarts students had managed to remain

unscathed and were rounding up the remaining Death Eaters.
“I have no idea how to kill them,” Ron answered angrily.
“I thought that you’d know what to do. Have Hermione try her
vine spell or something. Maybe fiery vines are going to have
some effect on them.”
“Viteus adligo,” Hermione shouted, pointing her wand
at a clump of Dementors. “Viteus adligo!” Long vines entwined
the Dementors, restricting their movement. Despite the iciness
the Dementors emitted, the fiery heat of the Hermione’s vines
held them tight, slowly raising the Dementor’s heat until they
could no longer maintain control of their bodies. They collapsed
to the ground in a heap, the dark cloaks that covered their empty
faces melting away in the moonlight.
“That’s the last of them.” Ron breathed a sigh of relief
and gave Hermoine a hug. Harry looked around the battlefield.
It appeared that almost no one was left untouched. Professor
Moody sat atop a fallen Giant, reattaching his wooden leg to his
body. Tonks appeared to be healing a wound on her left cheek,
going through numerous transformations of her face until her
skin had pieced itself back together. Bill and Fleur seemed rela-
tively unharmed, although Bill was holding his left arm rather
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tightly as they looked for the bodies of fallen students. Professor

McGonagall and Professor Slughorn alone seemed unscathed.
They were treating the students who were wounded in the fight
and who had made it to the battlefield. Harry couldn’t see the
rest of the Order from where he was standing. He could only
hope that they had made it out alright.
“I see Voldemort ahead,” Harry said, stating the obvi-
ous. “I’m going after him. I cannot let him escape this time.
And while I’m getting rid of Voldemort, I might as well just kill
Snape as well.” He strode forward towards where Voldemort
and Snape were waiting, not even bothering to see that Ron,
Hermione, and Ginny were following in his stead.
“Neville,” Harry whispered, pushing over a fallen body.
His leg was trapped under a Giant’s hand, one of the last few to
fall in the great battle.
“What, Harry?” Neville asked, smiling weakly. “I’d like
to get out from underneath this body right now, if you don’t
mind. And where’s Luna?”
“Oh, Neville,” Harry answered giving him a hug. “I’ll
get Bill to retrieve you right away. I think Luna is back at the
cliffs, caring for the injured. She seems to have come out of the
battle all right.” He shot up red sparks into the air.
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“Yeah. Thank goodness for the D.A. You know, I was

the leader of the Gryffindor army. Me. I don’t think I’ll ever do
anything that worthwhile again.” Bill apparated to where Neville
was standing, pulled him out from underneath the Giant, and
apparated back to Professor McGonagall and the other healers.
“Harry Potter.”Harry looked up to see the face of
Voldemort sneering at him, the flattened nose and snakelike
face sending chills down Harry’s spine. “I should kill you right
now.”
“Then why don’t you?” Harry asked, equally up to a chal-
lenge. After finishing off Giants, Werewolves, and Dementors,
Harry felt as though he were ready for anything.
“Because I want to watch you suffer, just like you made
Nagini suffer when you killed her.” Voldemort’s catlike eyes
bored straight into Harry, but Harry refused to look away.
“I didn’t torture your snake. Draco Malfoy flat out killed
her. A Killing Curse. No torture, no games. Just like what you
did to my parents.”
“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort shouted. Harry dove out of
the way, the curse missing him by just inches. Ron, Hermione,
and Ginny dove behind the numerous corpses of Death Eaters
and Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students that littered the
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battlefield. “You’re not going to escape me a second time, Potter.

Avada Keda—”
“RELASHIO!” Snape screamed, his wand aiming at
Voldemort.
Voldemort turned towards Snape, his mutilated face
contorting with rage. “I’ll deal with you later. Sectumsempra!”
Snape had managed to block the worst effects of the curse,
but blood was beginning to leave his body in a slow but steady
trickle.
Immobulus, Hermione cast silently behind the cover of
the fallen combatants. She hoped that this would be enough to
keep the blood from pouring out of his body too quickly, per-
haps even prolonging his life long enough to find out just whose
side he was on in the first place.
“Now, Potter. Prepare to die.” Voldemort raised both his
arms high into the air, pulling the stone out of the center of one
of the cliffs and turning it into an arena, an arena surrounded
by rocky spikes. “Only one of us is going to make it out of here
alive, Potter,” he continued, putting a protective translucent
bright green dome around the entire arena. “And I fully intend
it to be me.”
“As do I, Tom. But intentions are not going to win
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the war. What do you say? A good old-fashioned duel. No

Unforgivable Curses, Tom. For old time’s sake. Before you
started on this twisted path of evil.”
“Just because you are not strong enough to use the
Unforgivable Curses, Harry Potter, does not mean that I won’t
use them. I will not engage in a verbal battle with you any lon-
ger.” He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.
“Fine, whatever you wish. I just think that it is fear that
is preventing you from allowing me a fair fight. I’m seventeen, a
boy who’s just turned of age. I have only six years of schooling
under my belt. You’ve had years of practice. If you cannot defeat
me without cheating, then who is going to be willing to let you
be their ruler?”
“No one need be willing, Potter. I will rule by fear and
intimidation. And the foolish belief that I have some special
concern for my followers. I always have.”
“But there will always be those like me who will be will-
ing to stand up to you, and one day, you, like all the tyrants
before you, will fall.” Harry grinned at Voldemort viciously,
knowing full well that Tom Marvolo Riddle was about to accept
Harry’s challenge.
Voldemort’s eyes flickered with the new-found respect
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he felt for his foe. “Deal, Potter. No Unforgivable Curses. Now,

just as before, we must observe protocol. We bow.” Voldemort
dipped just as low as Harry this time, uttering the words, “And,
we fight.”
Expelliarmus, Harry cast silently before Voldemort had
even finished speaking. Voldemort stumbled slightly, but held
his ground. “That’s the last time you’ll catch me off guard,
Potter.”
“I hope not, Tom. Otherwise this will be a very boring
duel, and I came here just for the excitement,” Harry teased,
hoping that his feigned cockiness would quell the fear of death
that lay at the pit of his stomach.
“Well. It’s about to get much more exciting. Adflictatio!”
Voldemort’s hex missed Harry by just inches, the young wizard
barely diving aside quickly enough to avoid the stinging blow.
“Langlock,” Harry returned, as he rolled back onto his
feet. His shot went wide, slamming into one of the stone spikes
that surrounded the arena.
Seeing Harry was off guard, Voldemort silently cast
Depulso. Harry was thrown towards the spikes, but managed
to roll underneath them instead of getting impaled, as was
Voldemort’s clear intention. “You’ll have to do better than that
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if you want to kill me, Tom,” Harry taunted while panting.

“It’s Voldemort!”The angry, mutilated Dark Lord
screamed. A streak of red magic flew towards Harry. What it
was, he didn’t wait to find out. He rolled sideways and stood
up once more. Expelliarmus, Harry thought, hoping to catch
Voldemort off guard. “You’ll have to do better than that, Potter,”
Voldemort replied with a frightening chuckle. “Snape, before he
betrayed me, said you weren’t a good Occlumens. I guess he was
right. Sectumsempra!”
Harry once again dodged the Dark Magic, but his
breathing was getting heavier. It seemed that he had done all
the running while Voldemort had barely moved a muscle.
“Confodio!” Harry shouted, trying to think of every evil spell
he’d ever read. Harry saw a small trickle of blood escape from
Voldemort’s thigh, but to his dismay, it healed again almost as
quickly as it formed.
“Your blood does wonders for the body, Harry, but I tire
of our little game. Crucio!” Once again, Harry moved out of the
way, but just barely. The agreement was over; Voldemort would
do anything to eliminate the Chosen One. That much was clear.
A spike behind him shattered, hurling its tip harmlessly against
the roof of the dome. “See, Harry. Nothing gets out, not even
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you. Expelliarmus!” Voldemort caught Harry off guard once

more, sending him hurtling towards the spikes, the wand flying
from Harry’s hand as he flew through the air. At the last second,
Harry grabbed the tip of the spike and flipped himself over the
top so that he was no longer in danger of being impaled. In
one smooth motion, he hurtled off the stone point, scooped up
his wand from the ground and turned to face Voldemort once
more.
“Most impressive, Harry. Most impressive indeed,”
Voldemort chuckled, clearly amused at the teenager’s good
fortune. “But, let’s see if you can handle this. Imperio.” Harry’s
body immediately fell under Voldemort’s control. “Go on,
Harry. Go towards the stone spike,” Voldemort commanded in
a soothing voice. Harry moved slowly towards the stone spike,
seemingly oblivious to his destiny.
“Now, impale yourself upon it,” Voldemort commanded
again.
“No,” a small voice cried inside Harry’s head.
“Harry, impale yourself on the spike.”
“Why?” the small voice of resistance asked, refusing
Voldemort once more.
“Just do it. It will ease all your pain.”
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“No. No,” the small voice declared again.

“I command you to impale yourself.”
Harry was just inches away from impaling himself on the
spike, the full force of the last command driving him towards
his death. Just before he was about to drive the tip of the spike
into his belly, the small voice inside his head screamed, “NO!”
Harry whipped around, and having broken free of Voldemort’s
chains declared, “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort flew backwards onto
the spikes behind him, a long spike protruding from the front
of his belly.
“Harry, help me please,” Voldemort pleaded. “I can save
them. I can bring your parents back.” He struggled to get off the
spike, but try as he might, he could not move.
“Viteus adligo,” Harry whispered, allowing the Phoenix
vines to wrap around Voldemort’s dying body.
“You’ve done it, haven’t you, Potter. You destroyed all
of my Horcruxes. Every last one of them…gone. Yes…I feel
the last bit of my soul seeping away.” A sudden pain overcame
Harry, a pain originating from the lightning shaped scar that he
bore since the day his parents died. “Yes, just as I thought. If I
die, so will you.”
Harry struggled to employ Occlumency against the
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power of his bond with Voldemort. Slowly he tried to empty

his mind of thought. His focus became only the pain, and the
problem of preventing the pain fromoverpowering the thoughts
inside his head. Gradually, the pain lessened until it was no more
than a dull sensation in the back of his head. As Voldemort
took his last breath, the vines that sprouted from Harry’s wand
engulfed the rest of his body, and the dull sensation disappeared.
Harry looked up to see the protective dome vanish and the
spikes retreat back into the ground above the White Cliffs of
Dover.
“Reducto,” he said wearily, turning Voldemort’s body
into dust.
“Harry, please,” came a voice from nearby. “Ron, Her-
mione, and Ginny have tried everything, but they can’t save me.
They have given up and have left me to die. Please, I need your
help.” Severus Snape breathed heavily, his eyelids beginning to
close as the last blood was about to seep from the wounds in his
body.
“Why should I save you?” Harry asked angrily. “You
killed Albus Dumbledore. You deserve no better than what
you’ve been given.”
“I…can…explain everything.” He rushed the last two
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words, feeling that his time was near.

“I can’t save you, Snape. If Dumbledore were here, he
could do it. I could call on Fawkes, but neither one of them is
here now. It is just you, me, and a bunch of dead students and
criminals. I’m still loyal to you, Dumbledore,” Harry cried bit-
terly into the air. “You said you wouldn’t leave Hogwarts until
there was no one left there who was loyal to you.” As if in answer
to Harry’s prayer, a blue phoenix swept down from the sky. First
it shed its tears on Snape’s wounds, saving the dying man’s life.
Then it flew through the entire battlefield, healing the fallen
students and members of the Order that were not quite dead,
but too injured to help themselves.
Harry looked around him in surprise. Far more students
were standing than he had expected. It appeared that more
than three-quarters of the Hogwarts students that had fallen on
the battlefield had survived, and there were probably countless
more that had made it all the way back to the medical sta-
tions. Yes, there was very little chance that no one that he knew
well was killed, but at least the numbers were far smaller than
he had originally thought. The Durmstrang students, on the
other hand, had very different luck. Just from a quick glance,
it appeared that most of the Durmstrang students had fallen in
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battle. On the other hand, most of the Beauxbatons remained

relatively unscathed. Viktor Krum was nowhere in sight, and
Harry sincerely hoped that he was back with Bill, tending to the
wounds of countless students.
Harry looked out over the white cliffs of Dover, the first
light of day came just over the horizon. The sun marked more
than just the beginning of a new day; it marked the beginning
of a new life. The blue phoenix soared away, singing a song
that was not filled with misery or sadness, but the sweet notes
of a hard won battle and the promise the future would hold. It
may have just been a trick that Harry’s ears played on him, but
he could have sworn that it sounded like the Hogwarts school
song.
344
Chapter Twenty-Two
Daybreak
“Professor Snape, can you hear me?” Harry asked, wav-

ing his hand in front of the dark-haired man’s eyes. “Professor
Snape, wake up!” He shook Severus Snape hard, accidentally
spilling some of the medical supplies that Professor McGonagall
had brought with her. “He’s not coming around, Professor
McGonagall,” Harry murmered helplessly, showing the limp
body to his transfiguration teacher.
“Here,” Slughorn replied, handing Harry a large vial of
deep red potion.“This should wake him up real quick. It’s a bit
dangerous, so stand back.” Harry poured the red potion into
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Snape’s gaping mouth, watching the color turn to a deep blue.

“Get back!” Slughorn shouted, seeing that Harry was not going
to move of his own accord. Harry leapt back as Professor Snape’s
entire body spasmed wildly for a few moments before becoming
still. Moments later, he opened his eyes.
“Well, he looks awake,” Harry answered in surprise. “I
can definitely see what you mean about something being dan-
gerous. Can he move?”
“Usually the potion paralyzes their limbs for a short
period of time, but just to be on the safe side, Incarcerous!”
Professor Slughorn shouted calmly, and ropes sprang from his
wand, binding Severus Snape’s feet and hands together. “Harry,
here’s a vial of Veritserum. Pour it in his mouth when he looks
a little more alert.”
Severus Snape shook his head wildly, and making
no effort to untie himself, interrupted, “I don’t need any
Veritaserum. I’ll tell you the truth; I swear it.”
“I believe that you will tell us the truth, Severus,”
Professor Slughorn replied. “But I will undoubtedly be sure that
you are not lying if Harry pours this little vial of Vertiaserum
down your throat. I guarantee you will not be able to lie then,
and I think that we will both feel a little better about the whole
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affair.” Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” Severus Snape replied. “Pour it in, Harry.”
“I don’t need your permission, sir,” Harry answered
with a hint of malice in his voice. “After all, you’re the one tied
up.” Harry poured the entire vial of Veritaserum down Snape’s
throat, and slapped him lightly across the face to maker sure that
he was awake.
“Ouch,” Snape complained. “What was that for?”
“Just to see if you’re awake,” Harry replied evenly. “Now,
to the questioning.”
“I’ll handle that, Potter,” Professor McGonagall
offered. “You can just listen. I don’t want you becoming over-
involved.”
“Not a chance. I watched that man kill Dumbledore. I
saw Dumbledore die. I want to be the one to force his confes-
sion out of him.” Harry gritted his teeth.
“No! I can see that you are too close to this already. Let
me handle this,” Professor McGonagall replied forcefully.
“I will only speak to Potter,” Severus Snape interrupted
calmly. “Please. There are some things that I would like to
explain to him, personally.”
“He’s telling the truth. Veritaserum never lies,” Harry
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agreed, hoping to be the one to interrogate his much-hated

teacher.
“Fine, but I will be keeping a watch over you,” reminded
McGonagall. “One step out of line, and—”
“I understand,” Harry responded, hoping to get on with
the questioning. He turned towards Professor Snape. “Severus,
have you been secretly working for the Death Eaters the entire
time that you were with the Order?” Harry asked in anger.
“No. I was never under the employ of the Death Eaters
during my time with the Order. Ever since the day I renounced
my old ways, I have never been a Death Eater again,” Snape
answered firmly.
“Then why did you stun Professor Flitwick the night
that Dumbledore was murdered?” Harry asked, surprised that
Professor Snape was not a Death Eater. Some part of him felt
that perhaps Professor Snape was resisting the effects of the
Veritaserum, but Harry knew that was very unlikely.
“I needed to get to the other Death Eaters as quickly as
possible in order to understand what they were planning. More
importantly, I had to reach Draco.”
“Why?” Harry asked, intrigued by the mention of Draco
Malfoy, the antihero turned good in spite of everything that he
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had learned from his parents.

“To save him,” Snape answered forcefully. “Could you
loosen the ropes? They are starting to cut off my circulation.”
“Are you going to run?” Professor McGongall asked,
interrupting Harry and Professor Snape’s dialogue.
“No,” Severus answered. Professor McGongall loosened
the bonds that held Professor Snape’s arms and legs. “That is
much better. Thank you.”
“Let’s continue,” Harry said, returning to his previous
conversation. “What do you mean, to save him?”
“I made a promise to Narcissa Malfoy, an Unbreakable
Vow, in fact. You know what that is, don’t you?” Harry nod-
ded. “Good. I’m glad to see that your education hasn’t failed
you completely. This particular Unbreakable Vow was joined by
Bellatrix Lestrange, and she is not one to make a mistake about
these things, mind you. I promised to keep Draco Malfoy safe,
whatever the cost, until he completed his mission. If he did
not, or was unwilling to complete his mission, I was to do it
for him.”
“And his mission was to kill, Dumbledore?” Harry
asked, the gray areas of Snape’s story becoming clearer.
“Precisely. When I reached the North Tower, I saw that
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T W E N T Y - T WO
Draco was about to murder Albus Dumbledore, but that some

small part of him was unwilling. I was bound by the Unbreakable
Vow to murder Dumbledore if Draco would not do so, but I
would have done it even if Draco had decided to anyway.”
“So you admit that you were a Death Eater and that you
wished to kill Dumbledore,” Harry replied angrily, quite unsure
of where this conversation was going now that it had taken an
unexpected turn.
“No, that is not what I meant. I decided that I would
kill Dumbledore, even if Draco would do so, because I did
not want Draco Malfoy—the Death Eater who had never seen
death, never even caused death—to be a killer. To kill Albus
Dumbledore would have been a crushing blow to the young
man, and, as it turned out, seeing Albus Dumbledore die was
hardly any better for him. Draco could hardly eat for weeks
afterwards, and there was always a haunted look in his eyes.
He had no great feelings for Dumbledore, but just the thought
that he had been part of someone’s death was a crushing blow
to him.”
“Go on,” Harry ordered, the story beginning to make
sense once more.
“When Draco was finally ready to go back to work, he
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DAY B R E A K
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refused to kill people in order to obtain artifacts. Once again,

I wanted to protect Draco, but this time, from a far differ-
ent problem, the Dark Lord. Despite the fact that Draco was
extremely adept at obtaining magical artifacts of great power, the
Dark Lord was fed up with the fact that Draco refused to kill the
people he got the artifacts from. Draco did not know it at the
time, but Voldemort—there is no longer anything to fear in that
name—was threatening to kill him if he did not begin killing. I
ordered Draco to begin killing, believing that the scarring of his
soul was a far better choice than the end of his life.”
“I’m glad you did. Draco Malfoy was a good man, and
he performed admirably when he was needed the most. I’m
sorry that he died, but at least he took part of Voldemort with
him when he went.”
“He killed Nagini?” Snape asked.
“And Nagini killed him,” Harry replied with finality.
“May I continue, Potter? There is still much to say about
what happened afterwards.” Harry nodded. “I was instrumental
in freeing Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban, of course. I was well
aware of the Dark Lord’s plans to eliminate Lucius, Narcissa,
and Draco once Lucius was freed; however, Draco was not. I
was unsurprised when Voldemort killed Lucius and Narcissa,
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C HA P T E R
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T W E N T Y - T WO
and it seemed that it was only by chance that Draco was able
to escape.
“It was not entirely by chance, however,” Snape contin-
ued. When he was running away from Voldemort, I silently cast
a spell that would let me know where Draco Malfoy was at all
times. Every so often I would check up on him, to make sure
that he was all right. I fortunately arrived just after Nagini bit
him, and I carried the wounded boy in my arms all the way to
Hogsmeade. I continued to carry him through the secret pas-
sageway, the one your father used to unscrupulously ‘borrow’
candy from Honeydukes when he was in school. I left him lying
in the passageway, and just before I climbed out of the trap door
and into the shop, I used the Imperius Curse on Draco.”
Harry gasped. “But, Snape, that’s illegal. You’ve just
spent the past twenty minutes arguing that you were a changed
many and that you never were a member of the Death Eaters
again.”
“Don’t interrupt me, Potter! Can’t you see? I had to do
it. I used it to save Draco’s life. As I controlled Draco’s very
actions, I forced him to stand up and come out into the halls
of Hogwarts, where he would be seen. I made sure that he
would find Professor McGonagall, the one person in Hogwarts
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DAY B R E A K
✭ ✭
who was sure to help him. Don’t criticize me, Potter. I used the
Imperius Curse to save his life.”
“Just like you ordered the Death Eaters to spare me
when they tried to use the Cruciatus Cruse against me last
year? Was that just saving my life as well?” Harry asked bitterly,
unsure whether Snape’s story truly excused him for his actions.
“Yes. They are similar cases. I needed to protect both of
you. You, because you would kill my former master, and Draco,
because I cared deeply for the boy.”
“Then why do you not cry for his death?” Harry asked,
still trying to make sure that Snape was not lying to him in some
way.
“Because as far as I was concerned, he was dead already.
Voldemort’s Leglimency far exceeded the power of my Occlu-
mency, and to believe that Draco was anything but dead would
have been fatal for both of us. For me, because Voldemort would
have known that I saved Draco, and for Draco, because then
Voldemort would send a slew of Death Eaters after him, just as
he did to Igor Karkaroff.”
“Is that everything?” Harry asked, awestruck by Snape’s
story.
“That is all,” Snape replied with relief. “Now, if you
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C HA P T E R
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T W E N T Y - T WO
wouldn’t mind letting me go, I could help tend to some of

the wounded.” Harry looked to McGonagall and Slughorn
for approval, and seeing their quick nods, he pulled Snape to
his feet. Harry left the three adults behind, and walked over to
where Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were taking care of Krum.
“And how’s he feeling?” Harry asked, looking at the
fallen Bulgarian seeker.
“He’ll be all right. We’ve set his leg and given him some
Skele-gro. The bones should re-form in a matter of hours,”
Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “It looks like it must hurt.”
“Oh, believe me, it does.”Harry looked over at Ginny,
making a spur of the moment decision. “Ginny, could I speak
with you for a moment?” he asked nervously.
“Sure,” she replied, taking Harry’s outstretched hand.
They walked well out of earshot from Ron and Hermione, who
were watching over Krum’s apparently aching body. Harry just
hoped that they didn’t have extendable ears.
“Ginny, um, I just wanted, er, how do I phrase this?
Will you marry me?” he asked, getting down on his knees.
“When you’re old enough, that is.” He added quickly.
“What? No ring?” Ginny asked in mock annoyance.
Harry was taken aback, but quickly regained his compo-
354
✭
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✭✭ ✭
DAY B R E A K
✭
✭ ✭✭
sure. “One of the Giants ate it,” he joked.

She smiled. “Yes, Harry Potter. I will marry you.” She
pushed him onto his back and jumped on top of him, planting
a firm kiss on his mouth. Their faces beaming, they walked back
to Ron and Hermione hand in hand.
“Ron, Hermione, we’re getting married. Right now, it’s
more of a long-term engagement, but we plan to get married in
the long run,” Harry announced as he walked towards them.
“So are we,” Hermione replied with glee. “Ron proposed
to me while we were battling the Dementors atop one of the
Giants’ corpses. Not the most romantic place in the world, but
on the bright side, it made my Patronus tens times stronger.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ginny replied, letting go of Harry’s
hand and giving Hermione a big hug. “Why didn’t you tell me
sooner?”
“It didn’t cross my mind,” she replied, doing her best to
dodge the subject. “So, what do we do now?” She looked about
her at the dead corpses on the battlefield, the wounded students
at the cliff ’s edge, and Professor Snape. “They’re just letting him
go?”
“He said that he did all of that in order to help us, and
honestly, I believe him,” Harry replied.
355
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C HA P T E R
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T W E N T Y - T WO
“Why should you?” Ron asked indignantly.

“A whole vial of Veritaserum says to me that he is tell-
ing the truth,” Harry replied evenly. “I’m inclined to think that
Severus Snape truly was acting in the best interest of human-
ity.”
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. “So honestly, what do
we do now?”
“Well, you’re going back to school for one thing,” Ron
replied. “As for me, maybe I’ll work for the Ministry. I’m sure
they have a place for just one more Weasley.”
“But we don’t have seven full years of education,”
Hermione argued. “They aren’t going to hire us. Not a
chance.”
“When you save the world, they’ll hire you,” Ron reas-
sured her. “Besides, what have you got to worry about? You’re
just about ready enough to do anything.”
Hermione blushed, but shrugged off his comment a
moment later. “And, Harry, what are you going to do with the
rest of your life?”
“I don’t know,” Harry answered uncertainly. “Maybe be
an Auror, but there can’t be much left to fight now that we’ve
eliminated the entire Giant population, the Dementors, and
356
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DAY B R E A K
✭ ✭
most of the Werewolves. It doesn’t seem like such a good career

option to me.”
“Maybe you can teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,”
Ginny suggested. “I believe that Hogwarts is in the market for a
new teacher. There is no way that Professor McGonagall is going
to rehire Snape.”
“Maybe.” Harry looked up at the sky one last time,
imagining that he could see the face of Albus Dumbledore in
the clouds. Harry’s mentor was gone, his enemy killed, and he
was fairly certain that he would no longer feel the pain of his
lightning shaped scar.
357
About the Author
Adam Towne is an avid Harry Potter fan and a senior

at the Collegiate School in New York City. He wrote Harry
Potter and the End of the Mark for his senior project. Next fall,
he plans to study engineering at Cornell University. This is his
first novel.
About the Artist
Madeline Lieberberg is a sophomore in high school in

New York City and an enthusiastic Harry Potter fan.
HARRY POTTER AND THE END OF THE MARK
Harry Potter
and the
End of the Mark
Harry Potter
and the
End of the Mark
by
Adam Towne is an avid Harry Potter fan A. P. Towne
and a senior at the Collegiate School
in New York City. He wrote Harry Potter
and the End of the Mark for his senior proj-
ect. Next fall, he plans to study engineering
at Cornell University. This is his first novel.
Madeline Lieberberg is a sophomore in high school and

an enthusiastic Harry Potter fan. TOwne
Cover illustration copyright © 2006 by Madeline

Lieberberg.
 FAN FICTION 
Not For Sale 

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HARRY POTTER AND THE END OF THE MARK

Madeline Lieberberg is a sophomore in high school and

Cover illustration copyright © 2006 by Madeline

Harry Potter and the End of thE

Printed in the U.S.A.

The night at the Dursley’s house was as uneventful as

screaming, “Mummy! Daddy! There’s a burglar downstairs.

was clear that the sudden movement placed a serious strain on

a wand, and in his left, some sort of a cloak. On his forehead

Dumblydoor, or Dumdelbore, or whoever that man that paid

night, and that is final.” For a moment Uncle Vernon paused,

thinner, there would have been room for perhaps a third, or

at Harry in shock, wondering what other kinds of weird wizard

gratitude.” For a moment, Uncle Vernon looked as though he

birthday,” Hermione inquired.

Harry would have certainly overstepped his bounds.

“Geroff me,” Ron mumbled, as Hermione shook him

“What are you doing in my room?” Ron asked bluntly.

“It’s not the same Ron. Dumbledore was his teacher

ing away from Harry.

was on the brink of tears, Hermione gently offered, “I’ll keep

“We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Bill

It is far safer, and one only need go to the Department of

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron interrupted eagerly.

area protection enchantment that I put around your garden this

“Right.” Ron turned to Hermione. “The food looks

“It is most famous for having carried off a large vessel

and Hermione back to reality. “So, a Ukrainian Ironbelly had

Ironbelly down, but it made him even angrier. He thrashed his

tion, Class D, and I ended up with a scar on my left cheekbone.

her name, Hermione turned and began to look visibly interested

Harry looked around, wondering what Hermione was talking

“Another Hogwarts student. How nice. I was in

mother’s Autosweep Broom and Dustpan will not attack her.”

“Very,” she replied as they sat down. “Oh look, steak.”

“Shh,” Hermione whispered to Ron. “Pack up your

Harry went into the hallway to see if anyone was coming.

“No matter. I’ll pack up your trunk too.”

should not become a family affair.

came into view. “Hermione, it’s a Moke. What spell should I

“We should be going northeast,” Ron added helpfully.

“Harry, stand still. Don’t move.” Hermione motioned to

see the clearing up ahead.”

promise.” Ron looked tearfully at his sister, sorrier than ever to

trying to reassure him. “Three.”

At first glance, the house at Godric’s Hollow was com-

Inferi Suspected in Burning of the Burke

Just two weeks ago, Burke of Borgin

team of Aurors have been searching

“Ron, Hermione, come look at this.” Hermione closed

destroyed my arm.” He tried to lift it up but could not.

Harry looked around the room before standing up.

his bones. There was no Madame Pomfrey to heal himself now.

means that it’s an item of value. Probably, Voldemort must have

next, Harry? We’ll need somewhere to spend the night.”

“Most families have some sort of exit in case of a Death

now. Even if they did, Harry doubted that it would remain

“Hermione,” Harry called. “Is Ron all right?”

Rainburg’s Remedies for Rashes only discussed Billywig allergies

“I think we should stay up for a while. You know, keep

A lone figure stood in the forest awaiting a meeting

method of weeding out the weak and the unworthy Death

mission was a strange one, though. He preferred not to kill oth-