LUCY:

I couldn't bring myself to answer Harry when he asked what was wrong, just continued feverishly writing. He rested a gentle hand on my shoulder as he read along, silent as I wrote to Sloane asking if she was okay and telling her that I loved her very much. I couldn't write in any amount of detail, knowing the mail in and out of school was being closely monitored, but I assured her repeatedly that everything was going to be okay and that I'd go visit her over summer if she wanted and that I could ask my friends who had already graduated to go visit her sooner if she didn't want to wait until summer. Once I signed and sealed the letter, I sighed and glanced up at Harry.

"One of Ginny's roommates... her brother was bitten by a werewolf the last full moon. He died last night. I can't imagine how Sloane must be feeling."

"And how are you feeling?" he asked, studying me closely.

"I don't have time to feel right now," I replied. "I have to mail this, then talk to Professor Sprout about the Herbology O.W.L. study group Neville and I want to lead, then I have Care of Magical Creatures, then Charms, then tonight's Quidditch practice, and then we have to check to see if Dumbledore's back yet — "

"Alright, that's alright, but let me know when you're ready to feel, okay? I'll be there."

I nodded, deflating. "Thank you."

"Of course." Harry hefted my bag onto his shoulder. "I'll go fetch breakfast for you while you run to the Owlery. I'll meet you outside the greenhouses."

"I can take my bag," I said, rising from my chair and holding out a hand.

Harry grinned. "No. I've got it."

I huffed. "Give it."

Harry's grin widened. "No."

I lunged for the bag, but Harry merely laughed as he dodged me and started running toward the portrait hole.

"See you down by the greenhouses!" he called over his shoulder.

But he wasn't counting on me giving chase. I sprinted at him, successfully yanking the strap off his shoulder, but he stopped me when it reached his elbow.

"Let me be chivalric, damn it!" he protested, laughing loudly. "I was just trying to carry your bag for you!"

"I can carry it myself!" I shouted back, though I too was laughing too hard to sound at all like I meant business, which I very much did.

"I know you can, but please just let me!" Harry said.

"Oi, continue your lover's quarrel elsewhere," Ron's voice cut in from somewhere behind us.

"It's not a — " I whirled around to protest, dropping my grip on the bag in the process. Harry seized advantage of that and jumped through the portrait hole, vanishing from sight. I sighed. "Look what you did, Ronald Weasley."

Ron grinned, not at all sorry. "What? Harry insisting on carrying your bag is a very boyfriend move — "

"Oh, piss off," I interrupted with a huff. "It's not like that, he's done it for years."

"Is that supposed to disprove my point? If so, it's not working."

I rolled my eyes. "You're insufferable." I lowered my voice and waggled my eyebrows. "I hear Hermione coming down the stairs, so why don't you offer to carry her bag?"

I turned on my heel and darted through the portrait hole before he could respond. Harry was long gone, so I had no choice but to take my letter to Malachi in the Owlery and meet Harry outside the greenhouses. He looked supremely proud of himself, holding both bags as well as something wrapped in a napkin.

"You're a properly chivalric insufferable git," I said with a sincere smile.

Harry beamed back at me, extending the napkin. "Thank you, I try my best, on all counts."

I accepted the napkin and opened it to see that he'd constructed me a massive breakfast sandwich, a large roll overflowing with scrambled eggs and bacon. "You're my hero, Harry James." I shoved a bite in my mouth and couldn't help but hum with pleasure because of how good it was. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, his smile sweetening.

I survived the day, one step at a time. I toiled away on homework late until the night, but I finally gave up and crawled into bed sometime between 2 and 3.

A few too-short hours later, I was shaken awake by Hermione.

"Sorry, Lucy, normally I'd let you sleep this close to the full moon, but Katie's back," she hissed.

I jumped out of bed immediately and rushed down the stairs, hurriedly tying my dressing gown around me as I jumped down the last five.

Harry was just coming down the stairs too, and we made our way over to where she was sitting with her friends.

"Katie, welcome back! Are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded, smiling brightly as she jumped to her feet and hugged me. "Yeah, I'm really well! They let me out of St. Mungo's on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McLaggen and the last match. Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're alright," I said, reaching up with my once-shattered arm to knock on the side of Harry's head. "D'you want to play in the Ravenclaw match? I understand if you're not feeling up to it."

"Are you kidding? I've already missed two matches, so I'd love to play, if you'll have me."

"Dennis has been great, but I'm sure he'll understand," I said. "Besides, given our track record, he might still get to play in the match last-minute."

"We can catch you up at practice, we're practicing on Monday and Thursday next week instead of Tuesday and Thursday," Harry said. He lowered his voice. "Sorry, I'm sure you've already been asked, but that necklace... do you know who gave it to you?"

Katie shook her head. "No. Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies' room in the Three Broomsticks."

"You were definitely in there, then?" I asked.

"Well, I know I pushed open the door, so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory's a blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungo's."

I offered the most sincere smile that I could, though I was sure it was shaky. "That's for the better, I suppose. Still, I'm sorry that all happened."

"It's okay." She shrugged. "I saw Isla Montogmery's parents while I was there. I heard all about what happened to Boyd. I got off easy. Sorry, my friends are heading off to breakfast, I should go too. See you later, co-captains!"

"She's my hero," I said once the portrait hole closed behind her.

Harry stared at me for a second. "What?"

"She's the bravest Gryffindor to ever exist. If I was trying to have a wee or, worse, lay a brick, and I got cursed in the loo, and everyone knew that's where I was when I got cursed, you would never hear from me again. I would fake my death and change my name and flee the continent."

"Well, then, you'd better be careful," Harry said with a chuckle. "I happen to enjoy hearing from you. C'mon, let's go down to breakfast."

Katie wasn't the only person who returned on Friday, as it turned out. Dumbledore appeared briefly in the Great Hall at dinner, and Harry's head snapped toward mine just as mine snapped toward his.

I started to get up, but Harry shook his head.

"Eat first," he said.

"But — "

"Lucy, eat, I know you're hungry," he repeated. "It's already waited a couple days. It can wait a few more minutes."

"What can wait?" Ginny asked from beside me.

I lowered myself onto the bench, sighing as I started reciting the agreed-upon lie. I hated lying to Ginny, but Dumbledore only specified Ron and Hermione when telling us who we were allowed to tell about the secret lessons.

"Dumbledore asked us to keep an eye on Malfoy, since I failed to see if he actually had the Dark Mark over summer," I whispered. "We found out that he's been sneaking off to the Room of Requirement and getting people to stand guard for him. We wanted to tell Dumbledore the other night, but he was gone again."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Harry's right, you should eat. That's much more important than Draco Malfoy, especially with the moon only four days away."

I nodded and continued eating as fast as possible, mind spinning. We were finally about to find out what Horcruxes were. For better or for worse, we'd finally have an answer.

Once Harry was satisfied that I'd eaten enough, we hurried from the Great Hall together and rushed up to his dormitory to grab the vial. We couldn't help but run all the way to Dumbledore's office, the refreshing glee of triumph motivating us.

"Toffee eclairs!" I panted at the gargoyle, which started to open for us as we rushed onto the spiral staircase.

When we knocked, a very-tired "Enter!" replied.

"Good gracious, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you two this time on a Friday night?" Dumbledore asked, blinking at the both of us.

"Sir, I got it, I got the memory from Slughorn," Harry said. He extended his hand to show Dumbledore the vial.

Dumbledore stared at it for a long second before smiling widely. "Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!"

Exhaustion forgotten, Dumbledore hastened to fetch the Pensieve and dump the memory inside. Without hesitating, the three of us bowed our heads low and fell back into the memory.

The first few seconds of the memory were the same — Tom Riddle, Voldemort, asking about Professor Merrythought's retirement, Professor Slughorn saying he was more knowledgeable than half the staff — but it was different almost immediately.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite — I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry," Slughorn said.

Ah. So that's part of what Professor Slughorn wanted to hide in the first memory we watched.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir. I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing," Voldemort said with a charming self-deprecating smile. The boys around him, however, exchanged amused looks, as if they knew he was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. How else would he have garnered a following, really?

Professor Slughorn shook his head. "Nonsense. It couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

I sighed quietly. It was the time before Lily Evans showed up and rocked Professor Slughorn's world and proved to him that even Muggle-borns could accomplish remarkable magic, I supposed.

The next part of the memory was the same as in the original. The clock struck eleven, and all of the boys left except for Voldemort, who said he had a question for Professor Slughorn.

Then the paths of the memories diverged again.

"Sir, I wondered what you know about — about Horcruxes?" Voldemort asked.

There was a beat of silence before Professor Slughorn spoke again. "Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

"Not exactly, sir. I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom," Slughorn said. "That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed."

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd ask — "

Voldemort was truly a master manipulator, even then. And Professor Slughorn fell for it, without any struggle.

"Well... well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir."

"Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

And in that moment, there was no turning back. I watched helplessly as the memory unfolded, because I was decades too late to do anything to stop the catastrophe playing out in the same castle I had called home for so long. The same castle Voldemort himself had called home for so long.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage. He would encase the torn portion — "

"Encase? But how — "

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know! Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended. It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things. Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic."

"Yes, sir. What I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven — "

"Merlin's beard, Tom! Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case, bad enough to divide the soul, but to rip it into seven pieces..." Professor Slughorn paused for a long moment, looking regretful. But it was too late. He knew it, even then. "Of course, this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic."

Voldemort nodded immediately. "Yes, sir, of course."

"But all the same, Tom, keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know. Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it."

"I won't say a word, sir," Voldemort replied, striding from the room with his head held high.

When we departed the memory and returned to Dumbledore's office, we all sank into chairs, Harry and I staring expectantly at Dumbledore and waiting for him to speak.

Dumbledore silently shuffled through drawers on his desk for a moment before extracting an envelope from one. He stared at it for a long moment before setting it on his desk. His eyes didn't stray from it as he began to speak.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time. It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go," he said. "Well, I am sure you two understand the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

"You think he succeeded then, sir? He made a Horcrux? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, looking up from the envelope. "A bit... or more. You heard Voldemort: What he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know — as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew — no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two." He looked back down at the envelope. "Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul."

"Is whatever's in that envelope four years old, Professor?" I asked.

"No. No, it's unrelated. This is just a reminder to me that I have a letter to write, once we're through here." Dumbledore shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the envelope to look at Harry. "You handed it to me, Harry. The diary, Riddle's diary, the one giving instructions on how to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Although I did not see the Riddle who came out of the diary, what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never witnessed. A mere memory starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory, sapping the life out of the girl into whose hands it had fallen? No, something much more sinister had lived inside that book, a fragment of soul, I was almost sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised as many questions as it answered. What intrigued and alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a safeguard."

"I... still don't understand," Harry said.

"Well, it worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work — in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. But there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read, wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Slytherin's monster would be unleashed again."

Harry shrugged. "Well, he didn't want his hard work to be wasted. He wanted people to know he was Slytherin's heir, because he couldn't take credit at the time."

"Quite correct, but don't you see, Harry, that if he intended the diary to be passed to, or planted on, some future Hogwarts student, he was being remarkably blasé about that precious fragment of his soul concealed within it? The point of a Horcrux is, as Professor Slughorn explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe, not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they might destroy it — as indeed happened: That particular fragment of soul is no more; you saw to that. The careless way in which Voldemort regarded this Horcrux seemed most ominous to me. It suggested that he must have made — or been planning to make — more Horcruxes, so that the loss of his first would not be so detrimental. I did not wish to believe it, but nothing else seemed to make sense. Then you told me, two years later, that on the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. 'I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.' That was what you told me he said. 'Further than anybody.' And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had. Yet it fitted: Lord Voldemort has seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and the transformation he has undergone seemed to me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated beyond the realms of what we might call 'usual evil.'"

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people? Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?" Harry asked.

"Well, we know that he tried to do just that, five years ago. But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort. While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain their immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable. Of course he was prepared to drink it if it would take him out of the horrible part-life to which he was condemned after attacking you, but only to regain a body. Thereafter, I am convinced, he intended to continue to rely on his Horcruxes: He would need nothing more, if only he could regain a human form. He was already immortal, you see, or as close to immortal as any man can be. But now, Harry, armed with this information, the crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for us, we are closer to the secret of finishing Lord Voldemort than anyone has ever been before. I think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lord Voldemort."

I felt my stomach drop as Dumbledore confirmed what I had been fearing. "Seven Horcruxes... but they could be anywhere in the world, they could be anything in the world — "

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem, but firstly, no, not seven Horcruxes: six. The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack — the piece that lives in his body."

"How are we supposed to find six Horcruxes?" Harry asked, his distress and despair painfully evident in his voice.

"You are forgetting, you have already destroyed one of them. And I have destroyed another." Dumbledore lifted his hand. "Marvolo's ring. And a terrible curse there was upon it too. Had it not been — forgive me the lack of seemly modesty — for my own prodigious skill, and for Professor Snape's timely action when I returned to Hogwarts, desperately injured, I might not have lived to tell the tale. However, a withered hand does not seem an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of Voldemort's soul. The ring is no longer a Horcrux."

"How did you find it?" I asked.

"Well, as you now know, for many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life. I have traveled widely, visiting those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunts' house. It seems that once Voldemort had succeeded in sealing a piece of his soul inside it, he did not want to wear it anymore. He hid it, protected by many powerful enchantments, in the shack where his ancestors had once lived — Morfin having been carted off to Azkaban, of course — never guessing that I might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin, or that I might be keeping an eye open for traces of magical concealment. However, we should not congratulate ourselves too heartily. The ring and the diary have been destroyed, but if we are right in our theory of a seven-part soul, four Horcruxes remain." Dumbledore's eyes strayed once again to the envelope on the desk. He considered it for a long moment, seemingly waging war with himself in his mind, then shook his head. "Four Horcruxes remain."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "And they could be anything? They could be old tin cans or empty potion bottles, or — ?"

"You are thinking of Portkeys, Harry, which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook. But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have showed you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred objects with a powerful magical history. His pride, his belief in his own superiority, his determination to carve for himself a startling place in magical history; these things suggest to me that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcruxes with some care, favoring objects worthy of the honor."

"The diary wasn't that special," Harry said.

"The diary, as you have said yourself, was proof that he was the Heir of Slytherin; I am sure that Voldemort considered it of stupendous importance."

Harry nodded. "Right. So, the other Horcruxes? Do you think you know what they are, sir?"

"I can only guess. For the reasons I have already given, I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that, in themselves, have a certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back through Voldemort's past to see if I can find evidence that such artifacts have disappeared around him."

"So Hufflepuff's cup and the locket, and maybe something representing Ravenclaw and Gryffindor too," I mused.

"Yes, Lucy, my thoughts exactly. I would be prepared to bet — perhaps not my other hand, but a couple of fingers — that the cup and the ring became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe." He pointed to the Sword of Gryffindor with his blackened fingers. "I believe the true reason he returned to Hogwarts was to try to find objects from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to turn into Horcruxes, but unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for he was turned away, or so I believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders' objects. He definitely had two — he may have found three — and that is the best we can do for now."

"What else might he have used?" I asked.

"I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is," Dumbledore replied. "I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behavior of the snake, Nagini?"

Harry blinked. "The snake? You can use animals as Horcruxes?"

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so, because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you. He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death. As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique; I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to keep her close, and he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth."

"And to return to what you said earlier, using an animal would offer him more control than, say, using a person, since he was still operating in secret at the time he would have made Nagini a Horcrux," I said. "Right, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered once again to the envelope and back so rapidly I would have missed it if I hadn't been staring directly at his eyes. "Right. Yes, that makes sense."

"So, the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the locket, and the snake are still intact, and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's?" Harry asked.

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding.

Dumbledore's praise gave Harry the confidence to venture a guess. "So are you still looking for them, sir? Is that where you've been going when you've been leaving the school?"

"Correct. I have been looking for a very long time. I think perhaps I may be close to finding another one. There are hopeful signs."

"And if you do, can I come with you and help get rid of it?" Harry asked.

I held my breath as Dumbledore stared at Harry for a long moment.

"Yes, I think so," he said finally.

"I can?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes. I think you have earned that right."

Dumbledore was smiling, but the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses that had been listening in started shaking their heads disapprovingly.

"What about me, sir?" I asked. "I could help. And Harry and I are at our best when we're together," I added. For once in my life, I didn't blush. I had all of the confidence in the world.

"I know that, Lucy," Dumbledore replied. He considered me for a long moment. "When I leave the school, I leave additional protections in place. While I have never explicitly asked you to be a part of those additional protections, I have always hoped that, if needed, you would protect your fellow students the same way you have protected your family and friends all these years. I must ask that, in this one instance, you trust me to protect Harry while I trust you to protect the school. If my suspicions are correct, it will be difficult enough acquiring the Horcrux with two people, and I am not sure if even I could manage three."

I nodded slowly, trying and failing to push away the unease crawling up my spine. "I can do that, sir."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You've done a brilliant job looking after Harry all these years, but this is a moment where your paths diverge. There will be a time when you work together again, but for now, I think it best if you focus on your own individual strengths. You can focus on your training, while Harry concerns himself with the Horcruxes."

"Strengths," I repeated. What an odd choice of word, considering neither of us had known anything about Horcruxes just an hour ago. I nodded anyway. "Right."

I lapsed into silence after that, lost in thought, letting Harry take control of the conversation. He was the one whose strength was Horcruxes, after all. I had half a mind to leave to go get a bit of training in before curfew, but I remained in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel it?" Harry asked.

"A very interesting question, Harry. I believe not. I believe that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss, but he was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold."

"But I thought he meant Lucius Malfoy to smuggle it into Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he did, years ago, when he was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort's say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after giving him the diary. No doubt he thought that Lucius would not dare do anything with the Horcrux other than guard it carefully, but he was counting too much upon Lucius's fear of a master who had been gone for years and whom Lucius believed dead. Of course, Lucius did not know what the diary really was. I understand that Voldemort had told him the diary would cause the Chamber of Secrets to reopen because it was cleverly enchanted. Had Lucius known he held a portion of his master's soul in his hands, he would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence — but instead he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own ends: By planting the diary upon Arthur Weasley's daughter, he hoped to discredit Arthur and get rid of a highly incriminating magical object in one stroke. Ah, poor Lucius, what with Voldemort's fury about the fact that he threw away the Horcrux for his own gain, and the fiasco at the Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if he is not secretly glad to be safe in Azkaban at the moment."

"So..." Harry said slowly, "if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so. 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."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "But I don't have uncommon skill and power."

"Yes, you have. You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can — "

"I know! I can love!" Harry burst out.

"Yes, Harry, you can love. Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying anything. Oh how I loved my sweet boy who refused to let the world harden him. Harry wasn't too young to understand how remarkable he was, because I understood perfectly well. He wasn't too young, he was just too hurt to realize yet just how hurt he was. He was too hurt to even think about hardening himself, forming a protective shell around his heart, he was too hurt to do anything other than hold out his bleeding heart for the world to see and beg someone to love him back. I'd always tried to be gentle with his soft heart, love it with all of the tender care it deserved, but he was far from healed. It would take a lifetime to heal from the hurt he'd suffered. I'd be with him every step of the way, of course I'd be with him because where else would I be, but not because it would be easy. It was easy to love him, because truly how could I not love a boy like Harry James Potter, but it wasn't easy, yet, to help him understand just how loved he was. He wasn't too young to understand how unusual he was, because I'd known for a very long time that Harry James Potter had a soul so remarkably bright and beautiful that it shone through all of the pain he'd been forced to carry in his slight frame — he was too hurt, which was something different entirely. He would heal, though. I would make sure of that, one day of loving him at a time.

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,'" Harry said, "it just means — love?"

"Yes — just love. But Harry, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him — and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"

"But it comes to the same — "

"No, it doesn't! You are setting too much store by the prophecy!"

"But you said the prophecy means — "

"If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?"

"But — but last year, you said one of us would have to kill the other — "

"Harry, Harry, only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted on Professor Trelawney's words! If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for you, would he have given you a magical protection he could not penetrate? Of course not, Harry! Don't you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he not only handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquely deadly weapons!"

"But — "

"It is essential that you understand this! By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort's fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort's world — which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have — you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's followers!"

"Of course not, he killed my mum and dad!" Harry said desperately.

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love! The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror? Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord Voldemort's mind without damage to yourself, but he cannot possess you without enduring mortal agony, as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think he understands why, Harry, but then, he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."

"But, sir, it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill him, or — "

"Got to? Of course you've got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!"

Harry was quiet for a moment. "I'd want him finished. And I'd want to do it."

"Of course you would! You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal. In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you, which makes it certain, really, that — "

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," Harry said softly.

A heavy silence hung in the room then. After a couple of moments, Dumbledore told us we ought to head back to our common room because it was nearly curfew. We agreed and made our way up in silence.

Ron and Hermione were sitting together at a table in the corner of the room, Hermione's head bowed low over a textbook and Ron's eyes fixed on Hermione. Harry and I exchanged an amused look before heading over and taking the other two seats at the table.

"How'd it go?" Hermione asked, head snapping up immediately when I put up the silencing spell.

I glanced at Harry. "Go ahead, it's your story."

Harry sighed and launched into an explanation of the memory and the conversation we'd had after the fact. Hermione and Ron made comments and looked shocked in all of the right places, and once Harry's story was over, they both expressed surprise that Dumbledore was taking Harry along but not me.

"You two are sort of, you know, a boxed set," Hermione said. "It seems odd that he would want to separate you."

I shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. I mean, he's right, I do fancy myself more of a protector than a Horcrux hunter or anything like that."

"I don't fancy myself a Horcrux hunter, I don't know what Dumbledore's on about," Harry said.

"Yeah, you'd be a rubbish pirate. You couldn't find buried treasure even if you had a map where X marked the spot," Ron said with a very pointed look at me.

"Aw, Ron, you watched our pirate-themed Daydream Charm so now you know what pirates are, how sweet. I don't know why wizarding families don't teach their children about pirates, it's truly a shame." I grinned cheekily. "Anyway, maybe you and Harry could be rubbish pirates together and search the world for something you'd later realize was in front of your face all along. Meanwhile, Mione and I could be pirates too, of a different sort. Instead of searching for buried treasure, Mione could search the world for secret knowledge and I could accompany her as a trusty bodyguard."

"No, you'd be more than that," Hermione argued. "You'd be both a bodyguard and a research assistant. You intuitively understand aspects of magic that I don't, for one, so if there's any kind of emotional magic involved, you could do that much better than I could. And I could solve the puzzles guarding the secret knowledge, and you could blast your way through anything I couldn't solve."

I nodded. "Perfect. We'd be such excellent pirates, Mione. I suppose we could help the boys on occasion, too, when our paths happened to cross. As fun as secret knowledge is, I wouldn't be opposed to treasure either."

"Reckon we'd accidentally come across a Horcrux while we're at it?" Harry asked.

"Oh, great," Ron spluttered, looking equal parts pleased and amused. "That's exactly what we'd end up doing, knowing us. We'd become the great Horcrux Hunting Pirates."

"Searching the seven seas for the seven Horcruxes," Hermione added as she giggled.

"Harry and I already have wicked facial scars, you two have to catch up," I joked. "Pirates always have wicked scars."

Ron rolled up his sleeves to reveal the lingering scars from where the brains had wrapped around him in the Department of Mysteries. "Aw, you mean these don't count just because they're not on my face?"

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Hm, no, they don't count. Only the best kinds of people are cool enough to get facial scars."

"Does George's count?" Hermione asked. "He told us about the one on his cheek when he brought Henry for dinner over summer."

"Hm, I don't think so. Not cool enough. He needs a more impressive one, if he wants to be a true Horcrux Hunting Pirate."

Harry chuckled. "Is that actually what we're calling ourselves now?"

"Sure beats 'Quintessential Quirky Quartet,'" Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

"It's more inclusive, too," I added. "You can't have more than four people in a quartet. Our pirate crew can have an infinite number of family and friends."

"Are the facial scars a requirement of being a Horcrux Hunting Pirate?" Hermione inquired.

I shook my head. "No, but... hm... facial scars do grant you a rank of... not Order of Merlin first class, because we can't actually hand that out. How about Order of Godric, first class? Or is that still too pretentious?"

"I think it works," Ron said, "for our hypothetical little Horcrux Hunting Pirate group."

"Only one problem, though," Harry piped up. "We can't exactly tell anyone else about Horcruxes. Not yet, anyway. So how are we going to add to our crew?"

"I'm not sure we want to add to the crew, if you need an impressive facial scar to earn the highest honor of the Horcrux Hunting Pirates," Hermione said.

"I'm not sure it's much of a choice," I replied with a snort. "We can come up with other credentials for second class and third class. You and Ron, for instance, can have third class right off the bat for being founding members."

"Woo hoo!" Ron cheered. He held his hand up for a high five, and Hermione slapped it, giggling. "Brilliant. Well, with that sorted, I think I'm going to head to bed."

"I think I will too," Hermione said. "Lucy? Are you coming?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm admittedly still hungry."

"Let's go down to the kitchens," Harry offered immediately. "I have the cloak."

"Alright," I agreed, blushing at his eagerness to help me. My sweet boy.

"Just make sure you do get sleep, alright? You and Neville have the study group tomorrow morning, for the O.W.L. students who need Herbology help," Hermione reminded me.

I nodded. "Right. I'll do my best."

Ron ruffled my hair, thankfully not commenting on how warm I was the same way he had the night prior when he'd ruffled my hair before heading to bed. "Good night, Lucy Everlin Diggory, Order of Godric, first class."

"Good night, Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Godric, third class." I stared at Ron's exposed forearms for a second. "You know what, wicked scars somewhere other than the face earn you second class. Sorry, Hermione, no offense."

"None taken," she replied. "I'll cling to third class as long as I can, if those are the qualifications for higher classes. Good night."

The common room was nearly empty at that point, so Harry and I decided to just wait until it was empty before trying to embark on our journey to the kitchens. He dropped the silencing spell and asked about what Neville and I had planned for the O.W.L. revision group, and by the time I was done excitedly explaining our seven-session plan, the common room was empty, because apparently it was only fun to eavesdrop on Lucy Diggory and Harry Potter when they were talking about something other than Herbology.

Ginny was right about the people spreading rumors about Neville and me — they had a field day. According to Ginny and Lavender and Parvati, my best gossip informants, even the people in the "Lucy and Harry are soulmates" camp had a hard time denying that leading a group with someone other than Harry was a highly suspicious move to make. Naturally, all three girls were still adamant that they were confident that Harry was the one for me and I didn't see Neville as anything other than a friend, but I'll admit that it was nice hearing that I'd thrown most people off the scent, so to speak.

Considering I was eight months into a secret relationship with the Chosen One, everything was going very well, better than I would have dared to hope that night on the roof of the Burrow.

I told Harry as much that night in the kitchens as we whispered back and forth about the cookies we were making. I told him that I loved him and that he was remarkable, and that Neville was great and all but Harry was the chosen one for me. He rolled his eyes at my joke, smiling even as he did so. As soon as the cookies were baked, we made our way back up to the common room under the cloak and feasted in the window seat, still under the cloak, passing chocolate chip cookies back and forth and smearing melted chocolate chips on each other's noses and giggling like the little kids we used to be in that window seat, so blissfully unaware of the weight of the world we'd one day have to carry. We let ourselves pretend we were blissfully unaware that night too, even under the light of the almost-full moon.

Even though I felt like I'd been tossed back into the Black Lake, back into those nightmares I'd finally shaken over summer, I knew I wasn't alone. I didn't know that I wasn't alone then either, not that frightful February day nor in any of the nights full of terror that followed. I didn't know until later that Harry tried to rescue me first, assuming I was his. He didn't know until later that I really was his, even then, even if no one else knew it either. I was his, and he was mine. Always had been, always would be. So yeah, I wouldn't be there whenever Harry went with Dumbledore to get the Horcrux, but that didn't change the fact that Harry was mine and I was his. I wasn't alone, and neither was he. We'd been tossed back into the Black Lake together, forced to save a world Voldemort wanted to trap in darkness, forced to find a way to break through the darkness, the silence, the cold, the oppressive weight of the water, forced to sacrifice, forced to push ourselves to the limit, forced to find a way that would help everyone else breathe again too. But when we had each other, it was hard to truly care about any of that. As long as I had my hope and my Harry, surely everything else would be okay in time.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

I had played it off with Ginny so well Tuesday night, when she noticed that the fever was more intense that month. I was distracted in the days after that, by the planning for the Herbology group with Neville, by the death of Boyd Montgomery and my letter to Sloane, by the return of Katie, by the viewing of Professor Slughorn's true memory, by the first meeting of the Herbology group. But by Saturday night, I couldn't handle it anymore.

As soon as I was done with dinner, I headed off in the direction of the seventh floor, like I did nearly every night. I hadn't seen Draco at dinner, so I wasn't terribly surprised when I spied a little girl sitting against the wall tossing a Quaffle between her hands. Crabbe or Goyle, or whoever it was, didn't even notice me slip into the classroom where I trained, which was just as well, really. I drew my wand to put up a locking charm, but I couldn't bring myself to do even that much magic. I just wanted to stop, and be still, just for one night, surely I deserved just one night off, just one night to seek respite from the overwhelm.

I could see the room clearly without using an ounce of magic — my magically-enhanced heightened senses meant that I had seen every detail of everything clearly in the light and in the dark for several months straight at that point — so I wove through the desks until I found the darkest corner of the room. The sun wouldn't set for another hour, so I had to hide in the shadows until then, but I knew I'd be able to do that with ease. No one would look for me. Everyone would just assume I was training and wouldn't want to be bothered. Whenever Draco left the Room of Requirement, he would walk past the dark, silent, supposedly-empty classroom without a second thought. His lookout in the corridor hadn't seen or heard me, so they wouldn't think to check the classroom either.

It was quiet. Not silent, never silent, not anymore. It was close, though. It was silent except for the sound of my heart thundering in my ears. It was dark and getting darker. It wasn't dark enough to offer my tired eyes any sense of relief, but it would be soon. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, just for the darkness. I longed for cold, something to combat the fever that turned my blood to fire, but I could barely feel the fabric of the shirt Cedric had charmed for me nearly four years ago. I knew it was cold, Cedric was always so reliable, his magic was always so helpful, but I couldn't feel it, I couldn't register it, my logical knowledge that the shirt was cold didn't mean anything because I couldn't feel it. All I could feel was loud, bright, hot, fast fast fast fast, wouldn't couldn't shouldn't relax, wouldn't couldn't shouldn't slow down, wouldn't couldn't shouldn't stop. Wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't, would never, could never, should never. Endless loud, endless bright, endless hot, endless fast, never relax, never slow down, never stop. Never give up.

I couldn't breathe. My muscles were all taut, so tight my body ached with the effort but I couldn't find relief. I was trapped in my body, there was something feral trapped in my body begging for release, but it was only Saturday night, the full moon wasn't until Tuesday night, I had three full days between me and that release, but was it even release? Was it release when the monster inside me ripped my tight muscles apart, snapped my aching bones into two four eight sixteen thirty-two different pieces, yanked my skin open to make way for the coarse hair that itched and burned all night long yet did nothing to keep me warm when the night was cold, transformed me into a monster hungry enough and restless enough to kill without hesitation? Was that release? If I considered that release, who was I? What was I? It wasn't like I enjoyed it, but I couldn't lie to myself and say I didn't want that release in that moment, I wanted something, anything, to give me an excuse to scream, to run, to mourn, to exist as I was without being able to hide as I was so fond of doing, like I was doing right then, even in a castle where so many people loved me, on a continent where so many people loved me, on a planet where so many people loved me. If launching myself into the stars was an option, I would have done it in that moment anyway just for a moment of relief. Space was quiet, dark, cold, or so I'd always been told. Space was just the sky dotted with stars, and I loved both, I loved both so much, my two most consistent companions in life. Before I knew better, I'd secretly called myself a child of the sky and the stars, way back when I still believed. Back when I believed magic meant it was possible to be fathered by the sky and mothered by the stars, back when I believed it would one day be possible to look at the full moon with my own human eyes again, back when I believed Cedric could cure me, back when I had so much hope it was a wonder I didn't burst with how much light I still contained somehow, back when I believed that love would one day reach all the way to the core of me and not let go.

I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself and pressed my eyes against my knees and rocked myself back and forth, biting my lips together to stop myself from making any noise. Time sped past me in a blur. I wouldn't move, couldn't move, shouldn't move, except for my silent rocking back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth on the stone floor. I waited. For quiet. For dark. For cold. For a moment to relax, to slow down, to stop. But not to give up. Would never, could never, should never give up.

Hands, on top of mine, suddenly.

I startled, jerking away, scrambling backward. The Shield Charm snapped into place before I even looked at the person who had touched me.

Green eyes. Wide. Gentle.

A familiar wand that looked like a tree branch arcing through the air into a silencing spell.

Soft lips. Moving. Speaking.

I dropped the Shield Charm instantly.

"Lucy, love," Harry was whispering, "it's me, it's just me. What's wrong?"

I was frozen in place, heaving for breath, the whole room spinning.

"Mione said your half of the mood ring was going ballistic, more so than usual on a training night," he explained, still whispering. "I said I'd come find you." He pulled two pieces of fabric out of his robes, one a familiar cloak and one a familiar blanket. "I brought the invisibility cloak because it's nearly curfew, and the blanket Ginny charmed for you because you seemed awfully flushed at dinner and your eyes were a bit... wild. I thought maybe you were overwhelmed."

I nodded. No longer frozen, I sprawled flat on my back with a sound halfway between a sigh and a sob. The roar in my ears had quieted, the sun had set, the stone beneath me was cool, Harry was moving slowly to lie beside me, on my left, in between me and the door. We were relaxing. Slowing down. Stopping.

"I didn't give up," I said, staring out the window at the stars, at the sky. "Just needed a night off. Too much."

Harry gently draped Ginny's blanket over me and kissed my cheek. "I know you'd never give up. It's okay. We're safe. Just breathe."

I complied, tangling my fingers in the cold of the blanket as I breathed in and breathed out.

"Better?" Harry asked an unknown amount of time later.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Thank you. Sorry, I don't know why I — "

"You've been doing too much," Harry replied. He rested his right hand atop my left. "Admitting that you're doing too much isn't giving up. Rest isn't failure."

"I'd rather do too much than not enough," I said.

"It's not your job to save the world, love."

Tears swelled in my eyes. "It shouldn't be yours."

"Somebody has to do it, I suppose."

"I want to help."

"You do help, Lucy. You do. Don't you know by now how much better my life is when you're in it? Even if you offered me no other help whatsoever, just you existing and loving me is enough."

"I want to do more than that."

"I know, love. Trust me. I know." Harry sighed. "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just shoot the moon down out of the sky so you didn't have to hurt like this anymore."

"I'm so tired of this, Harry," I confessed.

"I know, love." He swallowed hard. "No matter what happens, we'll always have this."

I looked at him quizzically. "Nights where I'm so overwhelmed that I have a nervous breakdown on the floor of a classroom that hasn't been used in a century?"

"That's not what I meant," he said, chuckling as he shook his head. "I meant that no matter how overwhelmed and fatigued we get as we carry our respective burdens, we will always be able to find quiet moments like this. Even on the floor of a classroom that hasn't been used in centuries."

"I think I'd like to have my next nervous breakdown in a luxury hotel," I said.

Harry laughed. "I take it you're feeling better?"

I nodded and inched closer to him, tossing the invisibility cloak over both of us as I buried my face against his chest. "Sorry for... all of that."

"Shhh, don't you dare apologize, my love," Harry said as he drew small circles on my back with the fingers of his right hand. "Thank you for letting me be here and try to help. I know you're not terribly fond of people seeing you in such vulnerable moments."

"I didn't even let Cedric see me when it was that bad," I confessed. "I hid from him when I felt something like that coming on. It was never quite that intense when he was around, but — I still hid."

Harry kissed the top of my head. "I love you, Lucy Lu."

"I love you too, Harry James," I replied with a smile.

"I can hear you smiling," he said, and I could hear him smiling as well. "Is Lucy Lu a good enough placeholder until you learn your true middle name?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I wrapped my arms around him, hoping the heat radiating off of my body and the frigid fabric of the blanket balanced out without making Harry too uncomfortable. When his arms snaked around me in response, all of the tension seeped from my body as the rest of the world fell away.

I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.

We would always find our way back to each other.

No matter what.