And so began the rather reluctant alliance between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. The secret passage behind the mirror was found to be a bit too hard for the house-elves to restore, so that plan had to be scrapped. Nonetheless, Harry remained upbeat, much to Draco's annoyance.
'Just call me on the mirror the next time you need to smuggle your stuff from Honeydukes to the Room.' The dark haired boy said confidently. 'I can make sure that the goods reach you much sooner than you expect them.'
'What about the portraits ... Harry.' Draco had a pained expression on his face as he used the Gryffindor's first name. A few moments into their meeting he found out that Harry stopped responding when called by his surname.
'Oh, that's been taken care of.' Harry replied. He had spoken to a few key portraits and had used his status within the castle to keep the portraits from saying anything about Draco's presence. The castle owed first allegiance to Harry as he was Lord Slytherin. He got first preference over the other Founders' heirs, and the staff. Of course, he did not own the school, but the wards would always answer to him, so it was as good as his.
The next night, Draco called Harry from the Slytherin dorms.
Feeling his mirror vibrating, Harry made a hasty retreat up to his bed. Drawing the curtains around his four-poster and securing it with a charm, he answered the call.
'Finally,' Draco's voice sounded irritated. 'What took you so long?'
'I was busy,' Harry replied. 'Anyway, let's get cracking. Get to the Room. I will meet you there in a few.'
Saying this, Harry donned his cloak, sneaked out of the common room, and using the Marauder's Map, got to the statue leading to Honeydukes.
Thanks to his experience in sneaking out, coupled with the enchanted map, Harry was inside the Room, handing Draco the shrunken package in less than forty five minutes.
'That was fast.' Draco said with raised eyebrows. 'It normally takes me an hour.'
'Oh, well, that's nothing.' Harry said dismissively. 'Now that I know what to look for, I suspect that I will be here faster.'
Unable to contain his curiosity, Draco spoke up. 'How did you do it?'
'I have my ways.' With that enigmatic reply, Harry left Draco to his task.
From then on, Draco agreed to Harry collecting the parcels that arrived every now and then and dropping them off in The Room. Now, Draco could devote more time to repairing the cupboard. The problem mainly was that the cupboard itself was quite a rare artefact, so sourcing materials was difficult. Draco's best bet was to experiment with different types of wood, runes and enchantments. This was the main reason for the periodic nightly drops.
The evening after his first smuggling expedition, Harry was found going in the direction of the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had summoned him once again.
The gargoyle leapt aside at the mention of toffee éclairs, and Harry took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as a clock within chimed eight.
'Enter,' called Dumbledore, but as Harry put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.
'Aha!' she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. 'So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!'
'My dear Sybill,' said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, 'there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said —'
'Very well,' said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. 'If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it. … Perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated. …'
She pushed past Harry and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down, and Harry guessed that she had tripped over one of her trailing shawls.
'Please close the door and sit down, Harry,' said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired.
Harry obeyed, noticing as he took his usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk that the Pensieve lay between them once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.
'Professor Trelawney still isn't happy Firenze is teaching, then?' Harry asked.
'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in out side the castle. She does not know — and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her — that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see.'
Harry personally did not care. Trelawney did not remember the prophecy anyway, so there was no way on earth that Voldemort could get the full prophecy from her. Unlike Bertha Jorkins, there was no enchantment for Voldemort to find and break. That made the Divination professor useless to Voldemort. Voldemort might as well order Eric the security wizard to tell him the prophecy for all the good it would do.
Unfortunately, he did not have the power to throw a teacher out. After all, if he did, a certain-greasy haired somebody would be out at the very start of the year!
Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, 'But never mind my problems with the staff. We have much more important matters to discuss. Firstly — have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?'
In response, Harry reached for an inside pocket and extracted the phial of Slughorn's memory, which he placed on the desk.
'Excellent, Harry!' Dumbledore said enthusiastically. 'This memory is most important to our quest. I am glad that you got it in such a short time.'
'Now, let's continue with our story from where we left off. You do remember where that is?'
'Yes sir,' said Harry politely. He then gave a short summary of what he had seen the last time they had met.
'Very good,' said Dumbledore. 'Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?'
Harry nodded, suppressing the urge to tell the man to hurry the hell up.
'But now, Harry,' said Dumbledore, 'now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full ac count of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you, which we shall view before moving on to the unedited version of Horace's memory.' Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensieve. 'I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely.'
'I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two,' he said. 'This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.
'He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes.'
'At Borgin and Burkes?' Harry repeated with raised eyebrows.
'At Borgin and Burkes,' repeated Dumbledore calmly. 'I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided — but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher.'
Harry let the information sink in. Voldemort wanted to become a teacher? The thought was mind-boggling. For a few moments, he entertained the thought of "Professor Voldemort" teaching... 'Let me guess, he wanted the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts?' Harry gave voice to his suspicions.
Dumbledore nodded, 'Indeed. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years.
'Needless to say, Professor Dippet turned him down, citing his age, telling him that he was too young at eighteen to teach. He had however, invited him to reapply a few years later when he had gained further experience. I was deeply uneasy about this. In fact, I had advised my predecessor against the appointment. By getting the post, Voldemort would be in a position of unparalleled power. Not only would he be able to influence a lot of young minds as a teacher, but he would have unprecedented access to the castle and be able to tap into ancient stores of magic and harness secrets that he had yet to discover. I did not think for a moment that he intended to spend the rest of his life here, but I do think that he sought to use it as a recruiting ground: a place where he could start to build his army. Naturally, I did not share my concerns with Professor Dippet, for he was enamoured with the handsome, charming and dedicated young man that was Tom Riddle.
'So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this'
'I bet he was.' said Harry, unable to contain himself. He chose to keep to himself the thought that he found it odd that Dumbledore had mentioned Voldemort's good looks one too many times. It almost made Dumbledore sound as if he lusted after the nutter that was currently terrorising the wizarding world. Harry wondered if he was being prejudiced because of the venerable wizard's ... preferences, was the polite word for it. Whether it was for young budding Dark Lords or for men was up to debate at this point.
'Well, quite,' said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. 'And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith.'
Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so, 'After you, Harry.'
Harry got to his feet and bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until his face touched them. He tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of what he first thought was a particularly large melting iced cake, but turned out to be an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her. He remembered her all right. Especially the look of bewilderment and shock that slowly morphed into fear just before Voldemort ended her life.
'Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene,' said Dumbledore, resuming his seat after the memory had ended. 'Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident.'
'Well, I can imagine why the Ministry Aurors would suspect the house-elf.' Harry quipped as he also retook his seat. 'Personally, if I met a person with a name like that, I would suspect them too.' He smiled to show that he was joking. He was also rather amused at how easy it was to manipulate the woman. Tom hadn't even put much effort into flattering her. It was more than obvious that he was just humouring her. Harry supposed that she was pretty lonely. Either that, or Hufflepuffs (at least the descendants of the founder) were duffers, as Hagrid had said four years back. Then again, according to Salazar, the Founder herself had quite a one track mind. Of course, the man was of the opinion that being so open and kind hearted was a weakness, and only a fool would be so trusting and blindly loyal.
'Indeed,' said Dumbledore indulgently. 'Hokey's memory was also modified, just like Tom's Uncle Morfin's memory was. Hokey confessed to putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a little known lethal poison. It was concluded that Hokey had not meant to do it, being so old and confused.'
Harry frowned. He knew for a fact that Voldemort had murdered the old woman by Avada Kedavra, not by poison. Yet, the records showed something else. He wondered if Voldemort had found a way to remove traces of a curse.
Dumbledore started to speak again, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. 'As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.
'By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.'
'So I guess Voldemort made off with Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup.' Harry said lightly. He had a feeling that Dumbledore was going to do his theatrics again, and pique his curiosity. Harry supposed that if he had no idea as to the purpose of Voldemort's theft, he would have been curious. 'He is quite obsessed with the Founders, isn't he?'
Dumbledore nodded, 'And the reason why he has been collecting these artefacts will be made clear when we view the memory you obtained. On that note, I think it is time to move on to the next memory.' Thus saying, he replaced the house-elf's memory and poured the latest one. 'This particular recollection happens to be mine.' He said conversationally, 'After you.'
A few minutes later, Harry took his seat for the third time. 'Another request to teach in Hogwarts,' he said with forced politeness. He could not believe that his Pensive was now stored in what was once the headmaster's liquor cabinet. The nerve! He couldn't wait to get it back...
'He wanted the Defence post again, didn't he?' he asked before Dumbledore could fill in the silence.
'Yes. The curious thing is that we have never been able to hold onto a Defence Professor for more than a year after Voldemort left.'
'I wonder why he decided to ask for the position again when he didn't want it and knew that you would not give it.' Harry remarked. He really felt happy now knowing that Snape won't be around by the end of the year.
'That reason is something that shall be made evident after we view this memory.' Dumbledore said as he held up the phial of Slughorn's memory again.
So he knows what was in the memory, Harry thought furiously. Yet, instead of explaining, he insists on playing this game.
'Well, then, after you, sir!' Harry said with inflected enthusiasm.
Albus smiled at the eagerness the boy was displaying. He could understand; after all, he had been building up to this memory for quite some time.
Harry was careful to act as if the memory was a revelation as he watched, for the second time, albeit in the third person as Voldemort confirmed his theory about the number of Horcruxes that could be made.
'He split his soul seven times,' he said, not needing to fake the disgust and incredulity he felt. It was quite shocking. 'That's what he used the relics for!'
'Indeed, Harry,' Dumbledore said with admiration. 'You have been paying attention to what I have shown you so far. Yes, the secret of Voldemort's immortality was because he has split his soul into seven parts. Six are in Horcruxes, while the seventh resides in his rejuvenated body.'
'So he has a hundred and twenty eighth of a soul left in his body?'
Dumbledore seemed confused for a moment before his face cleared up. 'I can see how you could come to that conclusion,' he said understandingly. 'It is correct on a purely mathematical point of view. However, you forget one thing. Voldemort knew that he was going to split his soul seven ways. Therefore his soul also knew that for a fact. Ergo, when he created a Horcrux he only removed a seventh of it each time.'
Harry nodded. Taking this as his cue, Albus started speaking about the process of his research. He was initially tempted to speak of the years of effort spent into uncovering Voldemort's past. After all, he had spent the time period from Voldemort's first defeat till now in that effort. It had been fifteen years. Of course, he suspected it would have taken lesser time if he had spent more time doing it, but he did have other responsibilities as well. Helping the country recover was a major priority, after all. But that was neither here nor there. Tom had travelled extensively, barely leaving traces of his presence. But Albus had persevered, and had discovered his former student's grave secret.
But the hour was growing late, so he felt it would be best to stick to the bare essentials.
Harry listened as Dumbledore basically admitted that he knew all along that Voldemort had split his soul. It gave further credence to the fact that he really had been planning on killing Harry off. Four years, my arse, was the violent thought that ran through his mind.
'Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.' Dumbledore said finally.
'Well, I don't really have that level of skill and power that you talk of.' Harry replied blandly. He wondered what excuse Dumbledore would give not to train Harry.
'Yes, you have,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can —'
'I know!' said Harry a touch impatiently. 'I can love!'
'Yes, Harry, you can love,' said Dumbledore. 'Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how extraordinary you are, Harry.'
Harry listened to the old man speak for the next few minutes, nodding and verbally agreeing at the right places. It really was a right load of crap he was being fed.
Albus watched as the boy left his office. Now Harry knew everything. Well, almost everything; Albus wondered what the boy would do when he found out the truth about the scar.
Albus hoped that the boy would be accepting of his fate when he found out. It was the only way Harry would be able to survive. Of course there was a fifty percent chance that he would not make it, but it was better than having an immortal Voldemort.
Sighing, he picked up one of his instruments. It was a soul detector, a curious little trinket, developed in Egypt by a wizard called Rashidi in order to determine when an individual gains a soul. Later on, the device had been used in the early sixteenth century to confirm that a criminal had been successfully Kissed. After proving that the Dementor's Kiss was fully effective for nearly two centuries, the device was then placed in storage, used by the Department of Mysteries for their various studies.
At least that was until Albus decided to liberate it.
Really, nobody was going to miss this device. After all, it hadn't been used for quite awhile. And Albus so loved to collect trinkets such as these. And if said trinkets could be used to help end the war, then it was all for the better wasn't it?
Just as he had done before, roughly a year back, when told about a vision that had ended up saving the life of one of his key men, Albus tapped his wand. Smoke issued out of the top of the instrument. Just as before, the thick smoke coalesced to form a writhing snake, meaning that the instrument had fully analysed the boy.
'Naturally, naturally,' he said idly wondering, not for the first time, why it represented the presence of a soul in the form of an animal. Did the animal denote a personality trait, or a talent? Nobody really knew.
Concentrating on the device in front of him, he continued. 'But in essence, divided?' It was the same question he had asked last year.
When Albus uttered this command, he expected the image to split. This generally happened (according to the script attached by the wizard who invented it) in the presence of a woman who was pregnant for two weeks. The splitting meant that the woman had two souls in her body: one that was hers, and one that was the child's.
Now considering the subject of the test had been a boy, the pregnancy theory could be safely struck out (Albus may be old, but he was sure that such a biological phenomenon was frankly impossible). So the only other conclusion he could reach was that Harry carried another soul ... or a fragment of one. In other words it meant that the boy was, unfortunately, Voldemort's Horcrux.
Dumbledore had scoured the books on Horcruxes that he had in his possession. There was no way that a soul fragment could be removed without destroying the vessel. Except if the owner of the Horcrux and the soul fragment felt remorse. And he doubted that Voldemort would feel any remorse. It was then that he had come up with this wacky plan where Voldemort would kill the soul fragment. He banked on the fact that having Harry's blood, and by extension the protection Lily had given to her son in the twisted wizard's body would make sure that Harry would not die with the fragment.
But that had a fifty – fifty percent chance success. It really was depressing. Albus thought he was being masochistic by reconfirming that the boy was a Horcrux.
However, to his surprise, nothing happened. The image did not split.
Looking at the device in front of him, he cleared his throat and repeated the question a bit louder: still nothing. The image stayed stubbornly singular.
Albus sat back and thought about this. The detector was not damaged. That was a sure fact. It was designed in such a way that only a magical curse could end it. Any physical attempts to harm it only caused it to disassemble, giving the illusion of it being destroyed.
To be sure, Albus had tested it on quite a few people over the summer. He had even (though he would never tell anybody about it) tested it in the maternity ward at various Muggle hospitals. The device was definitely working.
So it could only mean that somehow, inexplicably, through some miracle, Harry wasn't a Horcrux anymore!
But how could this be? Albus stared blankly into the distance as he thought.
Suddenly a memory of an event that happened the previous year came back to him. Quickly, he held the tip of his wand to his head and extracted the memory, depositing it into the Pensieve. Without wasting time, he dove in.
He watched as Harry threw Voldemort out from his mind. Instead of turning around to look at Voldemort reappearing and taking Bellatrix away (like his version in the memory did) Albus focused on the recovering boy. Suddenly, he descried black smoke coming out from the boy's forehead.
Smiling in relieved joy, Albus exited the Pensieve. He barely stopped himself from jumping in joy. Somehow, in throwing Voldemort out, Harry had managed to destroy the soul fragment. The boy had described that it was his heart, his emotions, his love that had ejected Tom out. Evidently it had done more than that.
'You clearly don't know how special you are, my boy.' he whispered to himself.
Laughing in exhilaration, he sank back into his chair. Quickly, he brought himself under control. Now that Harry was no longer a Horcrux, it changed everything. Or did it?
He sat back to think, bringing his fingers together under his chin in a characteristic gesture.
No, he was sure it changed nothing. Once the Horcruxes were finished, it would be relatively easy for Harry to finish Tom.
After the initial attack on Ollivander came to light, Albus suspected that the Dark Lord wanted the old Wand Maker to help with the problem of having clashing brother wands. Partially to find a potential way to subvert Voldemort, and partially to satiate his own curiosity, he conversed with Ollivander and a few other Wand Makers. They all agreed on one thing; if Tom were to use another wand, especially if it was a wand not won in a duel, then Harry's wand would be able to triumph over the Dark Lord, perhaps even destroy him.
Knowing Tom as he did, Albus had theories on what would happen when the twisted man faced Harry. He had been careful to feed information to Tom using other, more esoteric sources that using another wand would solve the problem created by the brother wands. Dumbledore knew that Voldemort would be more likely to take a wand from one of his Death Eaters. Even if he came across the information that the wand needed to be working with him, he would still see the Death Eaters and their wands as his tools, his servants.
The other scenario that would happen was if Tom somehow managed to survive the initial setback of being bested by Harry. Dumbledore was sure that in this scenario, Tom would use his original wand. It would come down to a battle of wills. He was certain that Harry would win this battle.
While Voldemort would still retain his magical power and talent even after the destruction of his Horcruxes, loosing bits of his soul would hurt the Dark Lord in ways Albus was sure the twisted man would not realise till it was too late.
Once all his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort would not have the willpower that a person with an intact soul would possess. While it would not make him depressed to the point of wanting to end his life (Albus amused himself with images of an openly crying emotional Voldemort cutting his wrists), it would be enough that in a battle of willpower and magic, Harry would have the edge. Albus even suspected that without his Horcruxes, Tom would no longer be able to cast the Unforgivable curses properly. After all, all emotion, even hatred, comes from the soul. And with only a seventh of his left, unconnected to the rest, Tom would need to rely more on his magical power to power those curses. Harry was already Voldemort's equal in magic, he just had more willpower.
While this would prove to be a major advantage for Harry, it still did not make Voldemort any less dangerous. For there were curses out there that were far more deadly than the Unforgivable Curses. And a good amount of them did not require emotion to power them.
Harry would need some training, Albus decided. And there was a problem.
He knew that relations between him and the boy had soured. And he knew that he was partially to blame. The problem was that he did not know how to fix it, or even if he had the time to do so.
The boy's anger would need to be cooled first before amends could be made and forgiveness asked. It was mainly the reason why Albus had not mentioned the suddenly missing furniture in Grimmauld Place. There was no reason to add fuel to that fire. Besides, there were far more important things than having a proper place to sit on (Severus would disagree, though). Albus hoped that the offer of learning new spells would help mending the rift.
Perhaps that was all that was needed. Some one-on-one time with his ward ... Or former ward ... with a pang, he remembered the letter he received from Gringotts...
Oh well, what was done was done. Only the present and the future can be influenced.
With that in mind, Albus started editing his schedule again. He would need to fit in training with searching for the Horcruxes. At least he was close to finding one.
Albus paused for a moment, a thought occurring to him. He should tell Severus about Harry's scar. His spy would no longer need to pass that information along after Albus died. Then he had another thought: should he tell Harry about the scar?
After a few moments, Albus shrugged and got back to planning his schedule. He decided not to bother. After all, what the boy did not know would not hurt him. Why stir up that nest of Bowtruckles when there was no point in it? The issue had solved itself anyway.
Ronald Weasley was ecstatic!
After his latest meeting with Hermione, the two of them had upped the ante, so to speak and had started tailing Malfoy all over the castle. It was not easy as they had to do what they could only in their free time.
At first, in their attempts at tailing Malfoy, the blond was prone to taking circuitous routes, even doubling back at times, as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody. And every time, despite their best efforts, they ended up losing the trail.
However, of late, the Slytherin was getting careless. His routes had stopped being circuitous, he would double back less frequently and the times he looked over his shoulder became rarer.
And that finally brought him to this moment today. Today was the day that Draco Malfoy had not looked over his shoulder even once. Today was the day that he had carelessly gone through the halls without a care in the world.
Today was the day that Draco Malfoy had led Ronald Weasley straight to the Room of Requirement.
They finally had him! Or to be more accurate, he, Ron Weasley, finally had him. After all, he was the one doing all the fieldwork. Hermione barely had the time, because of the insane amount of classes she insisted on taking.
Ron immediately banished the uncharitable thought, feeling ashamed of himself. Who was he to resent Hermione for wanting to learn? After all, she had the capability. Hermione was so smart...
Shaking his head, he wiped the goofy grin that kept appearing whenever he thought of Hermione off his face. Ron doubted that there was any possibility of a relationship with Hermione. He did not deserve someone as clever as her. It was this quality that he admired in Hermione that lead him to pursue a relationship with Lavender in the beginning of term. Lavender was a girl that he felt was at his intellectual level. And it was this very same quality that now was causing a strain in their relationship. Lavender was ... ditzy would be the correct word. Yes, she was ditzy, and too much of a girl. He actually started missing Hermione's intellect.
He knew he had to break up with Lavender soon, but he really could not muster the courage. The girl was quite prone to violence. Her fists may be small and her arms thin, but they still hurt when she hit him.
Hermione never hit him.
Shaking his head again, he looked at the blank wall. The door had long since disappeared. He would need to get Hermione. She would know of a way to get in.
His mind made up, Ron headed off. He had to get Hermione.
They would soon get Malfoy and foil his nefarious plot. After that, they would then come clean with Harry (who also would have some apologising to do for not believing his two oldest friends). Then the three of them could go off and get You Know Who and then finish this bloody war.
'So how did it go?' Hermione was the first to ambush him as he stepped through the Portrait.
'It was good,' Harry replied. He looked around the common room. Due to the late hour, it was only the two of them.
As Hermione opened her mouth to no doubt ask about Harry's latest lesson and what Slughorn's memory had said, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Ron stepped through, looking excited.
'What's got you so excited?' Harry asked as he saw the ecstatic gleam on his friend's face.
'Oh, nothing Harry,' Ron said, quickly composing himself. 'I – um was ...'
'You were snogging Lavender again, weren't you?' Hermione spoke up with a look of part derision and part anger on her face.
'Yes! Yes, I was.' Ron replied, looking sheepish.
'As long as you keep it private, I have no issues,' Harry said a few moments of silence later.
Hermione gave Ron a severe look, which Ron responded with an unreadable look on his face. 'Anyway, Harry, what happened at Dumbledore's office?' Hermione changed subjects, looking at Harry expectantly.
Harry felt that there was something that he was missing that the two of them were in on. Finally, he decided to let it go. He doubted it was anything important. They were probably trying to tell the other that they really wanted to be a couple, or something.
Harry spent the next half an hour retelling what had happened in the Beak's office.
'So that's it!' Hermione said after Harry finished summarising Slughorn's memory. 'Voldemort made Horcruxes to secure his immortality. It makes sense.' She started pacing.
'I bet he made three,' she said finally. 'It makes sense. Three is a powerful number.'
Harry looked at his friend incredulously. Did she not understand what he had just told her? He specifically remembered talking about Tom's obsession with the number seven!
'Actually he was talking about making seven,' he finally said.
Hermione paused for a moment thoughtfully before continuing. 'But that makes no sense. It would mean that Voldemort has barely any soul left in his body. Nobody can survive after splitting their soul so many times.'
Harry opened his mouth to tell her that Dumbledore himself believed that Voldemort had made seven, but then reconsidered. 'Yes, you might be right,' he finally said.
The look of smug triumph on her face made Harry want to immediately correct her, but he desisted. 'Well, so does Professor Dumbledore have any idea as to what they are?' she finally inquired.
'Actually, two have already been destroyed. The first one was the diary that Ginny was writing in.'
'Ginny was writing to You Know Who's soul?!' Ron exclaimed incredulously, horror on his face.
'Well, yes. Anyway, the second Horcrux was a ring that Dumbledore destroyed in the summer. It was the reason why his hand is the way it is you see,' Harry continued. He knew he was lying to his friends, but he felt that it was better this way. At least it would make it less suspicious if he suddenly came across one Horcrux rather than three.
'So that leaves his last Horcrux!' Hermione said with excitement.
'Yes, Slytherin's locket. He stole that from this old bird...' and Harry recapped the incident with Hepzibah Smith. This finally led to the last of the three memories.
'Blimey, You Know Who wanted to teach here?' Ron said incredulously. 'Why?'
'Because he wanted to do the same thing that Fudge thought Dumbledore was doing last year,' Harry replied patiently.
The room was silent as the other two digested the facts presented to them.
'Dumbledore said that he was going to be searching for the last Horcrux,' Harry finally broke the silence. 'And he also promised to take me. After that we will have to deal with Voldemort. Anyway,' he yawned widely. 'I'm heading up. I'm knackered.' With that he stretched and headed up the boy's staircase. He did not notice that Ron had not followed him, and he did not see the two of them bring their heads closer to have a furious discussion.
The next day, after swearing them to secrecy, Harry told Neville, Susan and Daphne about what he had learnt. They were understandably repulsed by the thought that someone could stoop so low as to mangle his soul and split it seven ways.
The day after that, as he was about to head down for lunch, Harry felt his mirror vibrate.
'Harry, I don't know how they found out, but it's those two!' Draco's voice, frantic and hushed sounded from the mirror after Harry answered the call.
'What? You told me that you had it taken care of!' Harry replied heatedly. Calming himself, he continued. 'Where are they?'
'Right outside in the corridor,' Draco said. He peered out of the door, looking at the two in question surprised that he felt a pang of fear at the sight of those two.
After his alliance with Harry, Draco found the stress placed on him easing up. He had started sleeping better and his performance in class had also picked up. Thanks to this, he was taking things easier as he felt that his goal was now within sight.
It seemed that he had become too relaxed for suddenly he felt his rune stone heat up. The stone was linked to a set of scales that he had Crabbe carry around when he was guarding the room. Once his classmate dropped the object, the stone would heat up, alerting him that somebody was right outside the room.
Draco hurried to the door in which he willed a peephole. Peering out, he saw them: Granger was pacing in front of the wall as Weasley was staring at the door with a look of concentration on his face.
The sight of an expression of serious thought on the ginger's face would have amused Draco if he wasn't currently feeling blind panic. He did not know what he would do if Weasley and Granger found out what he was up to.
He thought that they had finally given up tailing him! The fact that he had been duped by those two was beyond shameful.
Harry meanwhile was hurrying towards the seventh floor corridor, furiously thinking of something to say to get Ron and Hermione to come with him. Harry was quite irritated with this situation for two reasons. Firstly there was Draco. The cretin was quite the most idiotic person he had ever met, and considering that he had grown up with Dudley, that was saying something. He did not mind smuggling in the goods from Hogsmeade, but apparently expecting the twit to at least have the courtesy of trying to cover his tracks was too much of an expectation. If this continued, Harry was sure that he was going to end up holding his hand and aiming the wand at the bright hairy target that was Dumbledore. Secondly there were his friends. Of all the times they had decided to start playing detective, they had to do it now.
'Hey Ron, Hermione,' he said, with fake cheer as he rounded the corner. 'Well, isn't this a surprise.' He looked at the two of them curiously. 'Are you two talking to each other again?'
Both of his friends blushed furiously at the comment. After Harry had spoken to them about Slughorn's memory, the two had not talked to each other, except to share news about Malfoy's whereabouts. Though the ice was beginning to thaw ever since Ron had that fight with Lavender at the after match party.
'Oh, Harry,' began Hermione with a flustered look on her face. 'We were just walking and met ... it was a coincidence – I have to be getting to the library – got some homework.' With that she hastily made her exit, blushing furiously as she brushed past Harry, leaving Ron behind.
'Um, I also have to go – to, uh, practice for the next match!' Ron headed off in the opposite direction, his ears and the back of his neck flaming red.
'Ron?'
The redhead stopped in his tracks and turned around. 'Yeah, Harry?'
'The dorms are that way.' Harry said pointing behind him.
'Why would I need to go there?' The redhead asked in confusion. 'The Quidditch Pitch is that way.' He pointed behind him.
'Yes, but you will need your broom.' Harry drawled.
'Oh,' Ron's face flushed. 'Yeah, you're right. Can't go flying without it, can I?' he chuckled slightly hysterically.
'Nope, I don't think you can,' Harry replied with a bland smile. He was quite amused at this. If he did not know better, he would have assumed that their embarrassment stemmed from being found next to each other.
'See you later then, Harry,' Ron said as he reached the end of the corridor.
Harry waved the taller boy away, keeping the smile on his face. As soon as the ginger had left, Harry let the smile slip as he turned to the blank wall.
'You can come out now, Draco. The coast, as they say, is clear.'
There was no response for a moment. Then a door suddenly opened revealing the blond.
'Thanks,' he said gruffly, not looking at Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes. 'Well, they have made you now. At this point, we can only hope that they don't figure out what the room becomes for you.'
'Well then, just tell them not to come here again,' Draco said dismissively.
Harry snorted, 'Funny.' Seeing the serious expression on the Slytherin's face, he said incredulously, 'You were being serious? How much of a moron are you Malfoy? I don't know if you know this, but they happen to be far more intelligent than those two bellends you hang around with! A Bludger is more intelligent than those two! The whole school has seen a Bludger outwit Crabbe, after all. They might buy that order, but we are talking about human beings that can think for themselves.'
Draco felt an uncomfortable heat rush up his neck as he glared at Harry.
Harry just pinched his nose and took a deep breath. 'Fine, you know what? Just ... whatever...' He started walking away from Draco. 'I'll see what I can do about this problem, Draco. In the mean time, try not to get caught?' Sneering over his shoulder, Harry left the blond alone.
It took a few days, but Harry found a partial solution to the problem Draco now faced thanks to his idiocy.
Extracting a piece of parchment, Harry handed it over to Draco. 'Here's a list of all the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefect patrols and the route they will be taking. Think you can use it to evade the "dimwits" as you call them?' The patronizing tone used at the end caused the blond's eye to twitch.
'I don't suppose you could change their patrol routes and times?' Draco asked hopefully.
'No,' Harry said flatly. 'Those have already been organised and changing them would require the Ravenclaw house captain agreeing. And he does not seem to like me, so I doubt that is going to happen soon. I doubt you would need me to change that anyway, as I have their timetables here with me.' He handed two other pieces of parchment to Draco. 'Now you know where they will be and when. I think this is more than enough.'
'It is adequate,' Draco said loftily.
Instead of replying, Harry curled his upper lip. 'Till next time, Draco.' With those words, he left for Gryffindor tower.
'Potter, stay after class, I wish to have a word with you,' Professor McGonagall said a few moments before the bell rang.
Harry packed his bag and waited in his seat as the class emptied. He wondered what the Transfiguration teacher wanted from him all of a sudden. He did not think it had anything to do with the lesson. Conjuring was pretty easy, especially when he had been practising rigorously out of class.
'I have noticed your progress over the year, Potter,' Professor McGonagall said when Harry approached her desk after the class had fully emptied. She looked at him for a few more moments before continuing. 'I feel that the class is holding less and less of a challenge for you. You have already shown an aptitude for Human Transfiguration and your Conjuring is also getting along quite well. Now I cannot have this, so I think that it is high time we stopped holding you back. That is, if you are agreeable to it?' she raised an eyebrow.
Sensing that the question asked was not really a question, Harry nodded mutely. He had no idea that he had progressed so far as to warrant special advanced tutoring in the subject. Though he should have expected it, he had been conjuring rabbits since summer while his classmates had just got birds down. He could do decent sized mammals by now. Admittedly his Human Transfiguration wasn't that good, but it was still better than most.
'Good,' Professor McGonagall said briskly. 'From next class onwards, you shall have more advanced assignments to do. I shall have the relevant material sent to you shortly. Let's see if I can still make this class a challenge for you, Potter.' Giving Harry one of her rare smiles, she dismissed him.
The next day, Professor Flitwick called him back after class and had essentially repeated McGonagall's words.
So by the beginning of next week, while his classmates were still working on conjuring rodents in Transfiguration, Harry was given the tougher task of conjuring large herbivores. In Charms he was set to work mastering the flame freezing charm, going ahead of the other sixth-years who were still working on Aguamenti.
While Harry was appreciative of Professors Flitwick and McGonagall's recognition and decision to have him move on to tougher topics, he wished that it had come a bit earlier. Most of the topics had already been visited by him.
Not that it was completely useless. Having the teachers involved helped him understand the theories and limitations of the spells better. Professor McGonagall was particularly a hard taskmaster, minutely examining his work and demanding perfection down to the last detail.
'Uh, H-Harry Potter?' a hesitant voice spoke up.
'Yes?' Harry was halfway to the tower when he was called. Turning around, he saw a third-year looking at him nervously.
'I was supposed to hand this to you,' the girl said to him nervously.
'Thank you,' he said, taking the parchment with a smile.
The girl blushed and without a backwards glance, hurried away.
Opening the note, Harry saw that it was yet another summons from Dumbledore.
What does the old man want now? He thought derisively. He pocketed the note with a sigh. It looked like he would find out soon enough.
It had been a couple of weeks since he had last met the headmaster. In that time, quite a lot had happened. For one, Draco found it easier to lose his tails thanks to the timetables Harry had given him. However, Ron and Hermione were pretty tenacious. Like a pair of dogs worrying a bone, the two would devote as much of their free time as possible to trying to find out what Draco was up to.
Draco also wasn't without his burst of inspiration. A week after the two of them had met, the blond handed a fake Galleon to Harry.
'It's got a Protean Charm on it,' the blond said shortly. 'So you can warn me when those two are outside. I will change the characters on my side to ask if they are around, and you reply back with a yes or no.'
'I know how it works, Draco.' Harry replied, amused. 'Never thought I would see the day when Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, would decide to ape Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn.'
Laughing at the ugly look on the blond's face, Harry continued, 'It took you long enough to come up with a warning system, Draco.' With a theatrical shrug he said, 'At least you got there. Better late than never, eh?' he ended with a condescending smile.
'I had a warning system in place beforehand, Harry,' the blond sneered. 'It's just that it is not viable to use the same system given the changed condition.'
'Oh, and what was that?'
At the question, Draco got a superior look on his face. 'What, didn't you notice? Well I'm not surprised you are no match for my genius, after all.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'Whatever.' He said in a bored tone.
'So, want to know what the security measure was?' Draco said haughtily after a few moments of silence.
'Bedazzle me,' Harry replied sarcastically.
'Not if you don't ask properly,' Malfoy said irritatingly.
Harry sighed theatrically and said in a bored sarcastic tone, 'Fine Draco, what is the early warning system that you had used to warn you of the presence of other people outside the room before Ron and Hermione found you?... Other than Crabbe and Goyle patrolling outside Polyjuiced to look like random first- and second-years?' he smiled blandly at Draco as he asked the question.
'Wh – how did you know?' Draco sputtered out.
'That, dear Draco,' said Harry, tapping the side of his nose, 'Is for me to know and you to find out. Not that you will.'
The slight creak of the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging open brought Harry to the present. Shaking his head he entered the Gryffindor common room.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his desk as he contemplated the past few weeks. After the last lesson he had with Harry Potter and the revelations that followed, he had wasted no time in telling Severus about the change in plans. The spy did not show it, but Albus was sure that Severus was relieved.
The next thing he had done was bring out the boy's file and see the report of his progress so far in the academic year. Seeing the marked improvement, he conferred with Filius and Minerva about their opinion on Harry's grasp of their subjects. According to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor heads of house, Harry was showing a remarkable improvement in their subjects. Indeed, Minerva herself had specifically said that Harry would effortlessly sail through her class while the rest, Ms Granger included, were left far behind. From this, Albus decided to mention advancing Harry in their subjects.
'I cannot speak for Minerva, but I have been watching the boy's performance since the beginning of the academic year, and I was planning on starting him with more advanced material well before you brought the subject up.' Filius said.
'I was thinking of doing the same thing,' said Minerva.
'Excellent,' Albus said happily. 'Then I shall leave you to it.' He paused for a moment, considering his next few words. 'Now, I think you know the significance of why I have asked specifically about Harry?' he asked seriously as he looked at the professors over his glasses.
The two professors nodded with grim looks on their faces, Minerva's mouth had become especially thin.
'Good, then do your best to impart as much of your knowledge as you can. Harry's survival may well depend on it.'
Thanks to Minerva and Filius, Albus could see to part of Harry's training in confronting Voldemort. Unfortunately he would not be able to see to the lad's Defence training. Severus had more than made it clear last year that any time spent teaching Harry Potter individually would result in disaster with the boy learning nothing. What was more, the surly man absolutely loathed the boy's very existence and would sooner cut off his arms than acknowledge in any way that the boy was more than just mediocre.
Albus really wished that Snape could let go of his bitterness. Snape was a brilliant Potions master and more or less competent in teaching, but his acerbic manner and childish vendetta against the son of a dead man was quite infuriating. Harry's scores more than proved his point. This year, Harry's marks in Potions had gone up phenomenally, from a "D" average to "O" while his Defence marks had gone down to an "A". And the excuse that the lad had found a sudden burst of motivation did not hold any water as his rather excellent O.W.L. results showed. It simply was not possible for a student with a "Dreadful" average to suddenly get a near "Outstanding" in his O.W.L.s if he was truly bad at the subject.
Albus had initially thought of confronting Snape about it, but then decided that it did not matter in the end. After all, the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s were marked by an independent body, and Harry was more than capable of handling himself in Defence Against the Dark Arts. After all, he had taught his peers and some of his seniors the subject the last year and nearly all of them had done exceptionally well in their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. At fifteen, the boy was a better teacher than Severus Snape! Admittedly, the boy was a better teacher than quite a few other teachers he had met and had been taught by. Harry was one of the rare few who actually had a gift for teaching. Like Minerva, Filius, Horace and he, himself.
Another unfortunate thing was that Albus himself couldn't see all of Harry's training personally. Albus would have loved to play the role of teacher again after so many years of being the administrator. He did know quite a lot of Transfiguration, and could very well teach the other subjects. Had he not been injured, he would have happily cancelled all of Harry's regular classes (except perhaps Potions) and taken the boy on as an apprentice.
However, he did not have much time. It was quite a mad dash against the clock to find evidences of Voldemort's past to determine the number of Horcruxes the twisted man had made, as well as to find the hiding places for the above-mentioned Horcruxes. On top of that, there was the matter of his injury.
The curse Tom had placed on the ring was quite a rare and deadly one. It worked on the magic of a person and slowly but steadily rotted the body from the point of initial contact. There was no known cure for the curse. At least there was no known cure that could work on a man of his age. It could only be slowed down. Attempting to cut off the affected area only accelerated the curse, as did actively using magic.
While Albus could do a few simple spells now and then, he could not risk casting bigger spells without aggravating the curse.
So actively teaching Harry was not an option. Thankfully it wasn't critical as he had excellent teachers in Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick. Defence was a bit of an issue because of Severus Snape, but hopefully that would be solved today.
A knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts. 'Enter,' he called out.
At his invitation, Professor McGonagall entered followed by Professor Flitwick and lastly Harry Potter.
'Please, have a seat.'
'Um, have I come in at the wrong time, Professor?' Harry said looking at the other two teachers with confusion as they took their seats. Suddenly he noticed the seating arrangements; the teachers were all facing him and the lone chair in obviously meant for him. The significance of this was not lost on Harry as he slowly sat down. He was not only going to be meeting the headmaster alone, but with the deputy headmistress as well. Professor Flitwick's presence was a bit of a puzzle though. He wondered what he had done wrong.
'Ah, Harry, there isn't anything to be worried about,' Dumbledore said genially. 'You aren't in any trouble.
Harry observed the other two professors. Professor McGonagall was as severe looking as ever, but Professor Flitwick shared a similar expression as the headmaster. Taking that as his cue, Harry relaxed fractionally.
'I wasn't aware that I was going to be meeting anybody else, professor,' Harry finally said to Professor Dumbledore carefully.
'Oh dear, did I forget to mention that? My apologies, Harry,' Dumbledore said lightly. Clasping his hands together in front of him, he leaned forward. 'Well, at the risk of repeating myself, I will say again, that you are not in any trouble, Harry.'
'What we called you here for is to speak about your classes, Potter.' Professor McGonagall continued from where Dumbledore left off. 'As you know, Professor Flitwick and I had decided to accelerate your tuition in Transfiguration and Charms. Our understanding was that our classes were no longer providing much of a challenge for you as they used to in the years past.
'Initially, when I first started, I thought that you would find it more of a challenge and this would naturally show in your work. However, I have noticed that you show the same ease in performing the advanced material as you have been doing so far. This familiarity is quite telling, no?' Professor McGonagall said leadingly.
'Erm, I guess I am quite talented in your subjects?' Harry ended the sentence with an upward lilt as if he was asking a question.
McGonagall was not impressed. 'I see you want to do this the hard way, Potter,' she finally said pursing her lips. 'Very well, let me spell it out for you. I have taught for a long time, and this familiarity is not something I would expect to see in a person, no matter how gifted, when learning something new. In fact, it is almost as if you know what to do. Now I have spoken to Professor Flitwick and you can imagine my surprise when he told me something similar. So we have both come to a conclusion.' She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.
'You have been practising these spells before they were covered in class.'
There was silence for a few long moments following this pronouncement as the teachers all stared at Harry who looked each of them in the eye. Finally, he nodded, 'Yes,' he said quietly. There was little point in denying this right now.
'Fair enough, Mr Potter,' Professor McGonagall said. She exhaled as she clasped her hands in front of her. 'Then I think that we should assess your capabilities.'
Harry, who at this point was expecting the teachers to forbid him from continuing, narrowed his eyes. 'Professor?'
'Harry, we are concerned with the fact that you have gone ahead with learning material on your own.' Dumbledore spoke up, indicating the other two professors sitting next to him. 'While we commend your initiative in learning material in advance, and wish that more students would continue to do so, there are risks to practising magic on your own and teaching it to yourself. Especially when it is a subject that is as a thorny and complicated as Transfiguration.'
'Indeed, Mr Potter, remember the story I had mentioned in first year about Baruffio. One slipup and the results can be quite disastrous.' Professor Flitwick, who had been quiet all this time finally said.
'Also, let us not forget that what you took a month to learn on your own could be learnt in half that time with competent instruction,' Professor McGonagall interjected. She sighed at the look of incomprehension on Harry's face and said, 'In short, Mr Potter, we do not wish to change much except ask that you allow us to supervise you now and again. In addition to that, Professor Flitwick and I shall start tailoring our teaching to match with your pace. I think you will find that learning things will become easier now.'
'And I think that it is high time I started teaching you some of the more esoteric branches of magic,' Professor Dumbledore said.
Silence followed this pronouncement as the occupants gathered their thoughts.
'So we shall meet in my office the coming Saturday, Mr Potter.' Professor McGonagall said finally. 'Eleven o'clock; do not be late.'
'Yes Professor,' recognising the dismissal, Harry got up to leave, slightly confused about what had just transpired.