A/N: Two lines are from canon. Aren’t mine, not making money etc. etc. As far as I can tell, this is the last one. But I may steal a line or two from Godric’s Hollow in DH, as that’s the only time where anything may overlap with canon from after this chapter.

I’d like to thank Seratin, Rob, Perspicacity, Mike, and Thor_nairda for their assistance with the bathroom scene.

And, as always, thanks to chem prof for beta reading. This would far less readable, otherwise, and that’d be a bad thing.

Chapter 18: The First to Fall

Dinner blurred by in a haze of steak, potatoes, pumpkin, and, naturally, pumpkin juice. Harry and Hermione sat on opposite sides of Neville, who didn’t look too pleased with the arrangement considering what he had seen earlier in the afternoon. He shot the two of them constant conspicuous glances, as if worried the two of them might suddenly wish to embrace again and he was hoping to be prepared to move out of the way when that time came.

There was the impending meeting with the group that Harry was dreading – dreading because he could not predict the reactions. He could not lie to his friends, or withhold information as the situation may be, of such magnitude when their lives would be on the line. Perhaps that was a personality fault, perhaps it wasn’t. Regardless, how could he expect them to put their trust and faith in him if he didn’t do the same?

However, this presented the be-all, end-all decision. There couldn’t be anything worse than Horcruxes that Harry was unaware of, surely. That meant that this was the final choice.

The rest of the DA sat around them, excluding the sole Slytherin as always, chatting amicably about whatever mundane or class related subjects rattled off their tongues. Harry and Hermione were fairly quiet, for similar reasons. And that included not only the conversation on the horizon.

Harry had quickly come to believe that had Neville not interrupted there wouldn’t be the sudden awkwardness he could feel between himself and Hermione. As much as he wanted to blame Neville for that, it wouldn’t do any good. So, what if he hadn’t interrupted? Harry wasn’t certain he liked the alternative any better or worse.

He’d talk to Hermione later, of that there was no doubt. But first, there was something of greater importance to discuss.

The group retired to the Room a short while later. Inside, Harry called for a word before they began. Over the weeks and months, Harry had gained a certain level of genuine respect for his character and abilities rather than simply his fame; he no longer needed to request silence when it was clear he had something to say.

Finally, Harry sighed and began to explain what Slughorn’s memory had entailed, and what exactly that meant for him, and by association, them.

“These Horcruxes need to be destroyed before Voldemort can be,” Harry summarized solemnly. “You’ve already seen how dangerous Riddle’s Diary became, and the Ring cost Dumbledore his hand. There are five left.”

This would be dangerous, this would be difficult, and their lives would be in constant peril – more so than they had previously believed. Voldemort would not have his Horcruxes unguarded, and it was safe to assume that his darkest secrets, the depths of his knowledge of magic, would be used to protect his most precious items.

The group was silent, and not for the first time after having bombshells dropped on them unexpectedly. The internal reactions varied. To some it only enforced their beliefs that only Harry could do something about this. Given that Dumbledore, Slughorn, Harry, and now the lot of them were the only ones aware of the Horcruxes, on their side, from their knowledge the Ministry had no chance of putting a halt to Voldemort himself, regardless of their policies, actions or leadership. Simply alerting them to their existence would be disastrous – if Horcruxes became public knowledge, the results would be mind-boggling. The best one could expect the of the present Ministry was to adequately defend the likely points of attack and dwindle down the numbers of Death Eaters, captured or casualties, over an extended period of time. But that wouldn’t stop Voldemort. It would only delay the inevitable.

“Unbelievable,” Neville said out of the blue. He blinked a few times before shaking his head and collecting himself. His one word statement had drawn everyone back to reality, however.

“That explains a few things,” Padma thought aloud. At the many odd looks she received, she elaborated. “How he could have survived. No ordinary magic is capable of that.”

“Have you ever heard of them before?” asked Harry hopefully. Any more information that he had could only improve how he felt on the matter, particularly on how to destroy them – Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned that part, if he even knew.

“No. I’m afraid not.” Padma shook her head.

“How can you be so bloody calm about this?” Katie asked, unfolding her arms and closing the short distance to stand in front of Padma. She stood before her challengingly.  The Indian girl narrowed her eyes and examined Katie’s furious face. Padma could tell it was hiding her real feelings.

“Have you heard of a façade, Katie?” asked Padma with an edge to her tone. The way it was asked left no doubt that it was a rhetorical question. Katie processed this and, for a long moment, maintained her challenging expression. Then her eyes softened slightly. She slouched a little, mumbling an apology. Padma ignored it, focusing her attentions on Harry and the subject at hand.

“You said Dumbledore guessed the other Horcruxes to be three objects the Founders owned and the snake, correct?” asked Padma. Her focus was alarmingly strong on the subject, as a way to keep from worrying about it, possibly.

“Two of them are Hufflepuff’s Cup and Slytherin’s Locket judging from that woman’s memory,” Harry replied. “It is guesswork.”

“Guesswork is all we have right now.” Padma dismissed his negativity. “It’s a base, something we can work from. Hermione and I can research what other Founders’ items there are, and see if we can find where they are and what has happened to them in the last… what, fifty years?”

“But aren’t there at least a dozen items to each Founder?” asked Neville. “Gran told me some of the stories behind them when I was younger. I’m certain there were at least two dozen stories, and my memory of back then isn’t that great. There could be more, many more.”

“Some of them have been lost or destroyed over the years,” Su said quietly. “There would be a lot less now than there were back when those tales were written. I can’t imagine there being more than a dozen left.”

“She’s right,” Hermione agreed with a nod in Su’s direction.

Ernie stood up from his seat, attracting everyone’s attention. His face was set hard in a neutral expression. “Just wait on a moment, people. Have we all decided to stay already? Did I miss something? This isn’t something to be taken lightly! We need time to truly think on this.”

A satisfied grunt of approval came from behind Padma. Katie was standing there, having moved while the conversation had continued, and apparently finally found something that she agreed with.

Here they were, discussing the idea as if they’d already agreed and moved on. Wasn’t anyone else concerned that they were getting in way over their heads? Sure, the idea of creating a team to combat the Death Eaters was fantastic. The reality, though, with Harry at the helm, looked only to be more and more dangerous as time passed. Horcruxes? Items that held pieces of soul that they would have to destroy? Most likely guarded by the strongest and Darkest magics known and unknown? She would get her hands dirty for Quidditch, but it appeared that nothing except death was on the horizon for her down this path.

“All right, then,” Neville said, again breaking the silence that had ensued. With hands gesturing to the other eight who were to respond – he assumed Hermione already had agreed – he said, “Then let us now decide on it. The way I’m feeling, we’re nearing our time. We make our choice now and we stick with it.” He linked eyes with Harry and gave him a definitive nod of agreement. “I’m in.” He looked around at the rest again. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“Neville, are you serious?” asked a disbelieving Katie. Neville spun and faced her. His face fell a little at her expression and her tone. His less-than-ever chubby face displayed, interestingly, resigned acceptance.

“I am.”

“Why?” Katie’s voice was barely audible even in the silence of their audience.

“Harry’s my friend,” Neville replied simply. That was enough, to him. But it wasn’t enough for Katie.

“So?” countered Katie, again quietly. She was distressed, though not yet to the extent for it to be obvious to an observer. However, her voice began to rise the more she spoke. “Being friends with someone and fighting Dark Lords together are very different from each other!”

“Katie, please, calm down. Listen,” Neville said soothingly. He moved over to Katie and gently ran a hand up her arm, trying, perhaps in vain, to defuse the situation he appeared to know was inevitable.

“When I went with Harry to the Department of Mysteries…” began Neville. He hesitated, took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve never felt prouder of myself for standing by Harry, helping him fight the Death Eaters. I’ve always been the one who got laughed at, for being the one with the toad, always losing Trevor, for being not all that talented, or any bad little thing that was happening to me at the time. Gran, and even my Aunts and Uncles, were never more proud of me either. But it’s not just them. It’s me. I wasn’t all that useful in the end, with my broken nose and all. Yet, I did something. I helped make a difference. From that I’m changing. We’re all changing. I am who I am now because of Harry, Hermione, even Ron.”

“I want to help,” Neville said with as much conviction as any had seen from him. “If that means my life will be in danger… I won’t lie; I’m not ready to die. I’d sooner flee and finish my education at Beauxbatons, Durmstrang or even have a private tutor than willingly die. But I’d never forgive myself for not helping now that I can. Harry and Hermione may not be able to do this on their own. They asked for our help, and I’m not going to deny mine to them.”

Although none of it was intentionally directed at Harry, he felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Again he questioned what he’d done to deserve such loyalty, but then, as Neville had said, that wasn’t all of it. He was staying not only to help Harry end Voldemort but he was also staying for his own reasons.

Katie had her face downturned as she absorbed Neville’s mini-speech. She did not speak for some time. Neville stood by, patiently, worriedly, waiting for the time when she would respond.

In the meantime, Harry was searching the faces of the remainder of the group to try and glean a reaction from them. He could sense that it would be better to leave Katie alone, and moved on.

His eyes found Daphne, standing aside from the crowd, arms crossed under her chest, a slight pity filled look on her face as she watched Neville and Katie. She felt Harry’s gaze on her and faced him, her face cleared instantly of any pity. It was more solemn now.

Daphne appraised him from afar for several moments before nodding once. He had her answer. But then Harry had not expected anything else. Why should the introduction of Horcruxes affect her desire to leave the castle? For all he knew she would leave the group the second they were off the grounds. She would take no part in their hunt if that were true. Harry wished he could understand her better.

What was her ambition? He had tried not to give it much thought, as the impassioned way of which she spoke of her own did not sit well with him. Despite that long conversation in the Hospital Wing, he still knew very little about her. He knew he saw an act most of the time, which made it even harder to understand the real her, her desires, attitudes and her motivations.

Was she spending all her time here simply to get Harry to bring her along? No, there was more to it than that. She had said as much – that her ambition would be achieved easiest around him. If nothing else, he could count on her to be with him as he left Hogwarts. From then on, however... their future was uncertain.

“It really doesn’t need to be said,” began Padma. Harry wasn’t the only one surprised by her speaking. Katie and Neville, and everyone else, all had their eyes on her. “But I’ll say it anyway. I’m in.”

Padma sent Harry a challenging look, as if daring him to object. He had objections, the same as he’d had for Hermione – he didn’t want to see her hurt because of her association with him. But he knew he’d allowed them the choice. It was their life, their choice.

And so far, four had chosen to stand beside him.

Susan was whispering into Hannah’s ear when Harry laid his eyes on the pair. As always, they were seated together. They were seated closely, facing each other on a slant, hands next to each other.

Susan stopped whispering and gave Harry a quick smile. Hannah noticed him too and repeated the expression before whispering into Susan’s ear. Their discussion appeared grave. And with no end in sight, Harry continued to wait.

Ernie was holding onto the back of an armchair tightly. Harry could see his knuckles whitening with the pressure. That was worrying.

“You alright Ernie?” asked Harry when the male made no move to lessen his grip. Startled, the Hufflepuff let go of the chair and stuck his hands in his robes.

“Quite,” Ernie replied succinctly.

“You sure?”

He nodded curtly as a response, but did not do anything else.

Harry, not for the first time, wondered if Ernie was up for this. His reactions of late, as with Katie’s, were not positive. Harry had tried to prevent his subconscious from believing that the ten he and Hermione had picked would stay together till the end. He had not succeeded in that regard. Seeing how poorly two of his number reacted… it wasn’t easy. It left him a little despondent. Despite the successes, the losses would always weigh heavily on his mind.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Harry faced Hermione. She was biting her lip again. She was worried about something, and it was presumably Katie’s reaction. She leant in closer and for a moment Harry’s mind went back several hours to their conversation and contact in his bed. His heart beat faster and he was certain he was blushing, or at least about to. He was saved, however, from any comments when Katie finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Harry’s stomach dropped and he could feel and taste his disappointment. His mind rushed through a series of possible responses, each inadequate or less than pleasant. He knew it wasn’t fair to her; however there was often a difference between logic and human reaction, and his reaction was to be disappointed in her, disappointed in losing someone, disappointed, even if only a little, in himself for that.

The rest of the group had their own reactions, but Harry had eyes only for Neville and Katie. Neville was still holding onto Katie’s arm. His head was downcast too, his face pained, and his arm probably clenching, trying to hang on to Katie.

“I – I can’t, I’m sorry,” Katie continued. She was still facing the ground, ashamed, perhaps, of herself, and unwilling to look her ‘friends’ in the eye. “This isn’t me. I thought it was, thought I could change and help and fight and duel. But I can’t.”

“Katie…” said Hermione softly. She stood and went to try and offer some comfort or reassurance to the girl, but Katie stepped back, out of Neville’s grasp, and finally faced the group.

Her face was red, and her eyes were filled with unshed tears. “I bet you’re all disappointed in me for this. I’m sorry, I really am.” She looked up and faced Daphne. “You’re right. Some people aren’t cut out for this. I’m one of them.” Daphne raised an eyebrow, probably the greatest amount of surprise she showed in public, but did not respond.

Katie turned and faced Harry. “I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be. I am who I am, I guess. I’m just not the right person for this. Good luck, Harry. I really hope you can find all the…, uh, Horcruxes.”

The eldest in the room gave a small, pained smile, then turned and walked off.

“Katie, wait!” cried Neville. He quickly ran after her. Katie stopped and faced Neville as he held onto her arm again and began talking. However, no sound could be heard. It took Harry several moments to realize that Neville had taken use of the Room of Requirement and sectioned off an area to give them privacy.

He continued watching them, not entirely surprised at her reaction but still shocked. Such great success he’d had in recruiting, such great success he’d had until now. It took the wind out of his sails.

“We’re in,” Hannah said after several moments. Harry looked over to the two Hufflepuffs. They were holding hands – to give each other courage? Harry wondered – however, their faces were determined.

“Are you sure?”

They exchanged a glance and said simultaneously, “We are.”

That made six.

“Thank you.”

What else could he say?

The pair gave him such sweet, innocent, but not quite innocent, smiles. It made him think briefly of their ‘offer’ and all the goodness that that would mean. And he also wondered just how serious they were about that, or if they were simply teasing him.

“I’m in too,” Su said. “I don’t want to sit idly by while my best friend is out risking her life for those that don’t want to fight.”

Harry blinked in surprise. That was seven – seven out of eight. He could still taste the disappointment with Katie but it was rapidly being buried beneath a near overwhelming sense of gratefulness towards the friends he’d made. Friendship and family, that’s what made life go on, wasn’t it?

Aside from Neville and Katie, who were still talking, the persons in the room switched focus to the two yet to answer – Luna and Ernie. Luna was, as appeared to be her usual ‘thing’, staring off into space. She did, however, lack the serene smile that usually graced her face. Even Luna with her eccentricities knew when it was appropriate to be serious. Ernie, on the other hand, was still silent and appeared so out of it, as if he’d hit the ceiling if someone addressed him, from the shock.

“Luna, Ernie?” said Harry tentatively. Luna jumped a little.

“Oh, are we up to me now?” she asked with all the innocent ignorance of a much younger girl. “I’ll have to let Daddy know that I won’t be joining him on our hunt this summer. He’ll be so disappointed.”

“Would he be alright with you coming with us? I mean, it’ll be a dangerous mission and all. And then you’re underage, and won’t be of age for some time, either.”

“If I’m with you, it won’t matter.”

Having not met Luna’s father, who must be pretty peculiar to have raised such an unusual daughter, Harry couldn’t disagree. Though it didn’t sound like good parenting to him. So, in an odd way, that made eight of nine – discounting himself, Hermione and Fleur, the latter of whom he would have to talk to about this when he saw her next. This wasn’t something that should be done through correspondence, special box or not.

So, this left Ernie.

“I need more time, Harry. I need time to make a decision,” Ernie said as the attention of the room shifted from Luna, Neville and Katie to him, Neville and Katie.

“That’s all right,” Harry replied. The lack of straightforward response, however, was ominous. To be fair, this was a difficult decision, one that, as Ernie had stated earlier, should not be taken lightly. Harry simply wished he could’ve had an outright yes or no, as the indecision and wait was worse than direct rejection.

“That’s it, then,” Hannah said, rather upbeat, considering. “Except for Katie and Ernie,” whom she then shot a dissatisfied look at, perhaps feeling the same as Harry on the matter. “We have our final group, yeah?”

“Looks like.” Padma smiled at Harry. She then turned to face Neville and Katie, who were still talking but it appeared almost over – Neville was slouching slightly, and Katie had her arms crossed and wouldn’t look at him. “I can’t help feel sorry for Neville.”

“He knew it was coming. Surely you saw it,” Daphne said. The young woman started pacing. “And I’m certain Harry knew it too, from her reactions and performance.”

Hannah’s face twisted into one of distaste. Susan, however, stopped Hannah from saying something she would probably regret. They still didn’t like her.

Then, Daphne added, “Some people simply aren’t capable of performing adequately, but there are those who lack the confidence despite the talent. Katie is one of them.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Padma, curious to understand the girl’s insight into people’s personalities.

“She hesitates,” Daphne replied. “Her spell casting is far from perfect, yet sufficient. She hesitates in her movements, when to strike, dodging, everything that’ll keep her alive in a real fight. It’s why she loses.”

Harry contemplated that for a few seconds until he was distracted. At that moment, Katie started walking towards the door. Within seconds she was gone without looking back and Neville was left standing alone. The Room of Requirement was hushed until Neville finally moved and made his way back. He sat down on a chair similar to one in the Gryffindor common room and closed his eyes.

“I think it’s safe to say our number is now eleven,” Harry said to Neville. He nodded once and that was that.

Several minutes of idle chat passed before Hermione announced that they should start on something or give up for the night. It was quickly agreed that they should practice more and within minutes they’d begun to duel and accept their situation in their own ways. It was only after the night was done and the others had left that Harry found a chance to speak with Neville alone.

“How are you?” asked Harry, taking a seat across from a replica of the Gryffindor common room fire, and beside Neville.

“Could be better,” was the honest reply.

“Want to tell me about Katie?”

“Not really.” A beat. Then, “But I suppose I should.”

“It does help.”

Neville gave him a skeptical look. Harry shrugged. It did help when he’d finally told Hermione about Fleur. It didn’t help much, but it did help, and at the time it was enough.

“If you say so,” Neville turned pensive. “We… started talking after that first meeting. I mean, you and Hermione are always together and I didn’t want to intrude.” Harry was going to interrupt to say otherwise until Neville raised his hand. “It’s okay, you two are closer than you and I will ever be.”

He’s probably right, Harry thought.

“So, being the other Gryffindor in the group, Katie and I spent some time together when she wasn’t with her other friends.” Neville continued. “It was… nice. We got on well. Surprisingly well. I mean, it’s me. You and I both know how awkward and pathetic I was over the years.”

“You aren’t pathetic,” Harry said. Neville’s self-deprecation was something he was familiar with. Strange how the roles were constantly switching – now he was the one trying to convince the other they weren’t feeble.

“Thanks for saying it,” Neville grimaced. “I feel different since that night at the Ministry. Like I am finally proud of who I am. That’s the reason Katie even looked my way twice, I’m sure. Anyway, we got… close.”

Harry couldn’t help wonder how close. Was it as close as he’d been with Fleur? More? Less?

“And I learnt things about her,” Neville said solemnly. “She told me how she didn’t think doing this was what she wanted after all,” he gestured around him – the Room of Requirement. “We talked about it. I tried to find out why exactly she thought that. I never did get a clear answer. Part of it, I think, was because of how she lost most of her duels. Another part of it was merely being afraid.”

He sighed deeply.

“You two broke up, then,” Harry said sadly. Neville looked at him curiously and Harry nodded over towards where the two were talking. “I put two and two together. I’m a little less dense than I used to be.”

Neville gave him a curious look. “Yeah,” he replied, turning back to the fire a second later. He slouched a bit more in his seat out of weariness, physically and emotionally. Break ups tend to drain someone. “Don’t know what to do about it, either.”

“Move on sounds about the right course,” Harry offered. “Unless you can talk it out together… but this might be one of those things that’s too much of an issue.”

Neville raised an eyebrow. “You’re filling me with confidence right about now.”

“Just telling you how I see it.” Harry shook his head.

“Say, Harry, you certainly sound like you’ve got experience here.”

“Oh, I’m filled with helpful knowledge,” Harry said with false cheer. “The things I can tell you about the women around me this year.”

The two talked for awhile longer. Harry learnt more about Neville and Katie, separately and about their relationship. By the end of the night the two were closer for it. Something about someone’s problems and someone else helping them did that.

Harry lay in bed that night, yet again contemplative. He’d been so absorbed with his own dramas that he hadn’t given any consideration to the others. He’d even forgotten that the others, the ones who weren’t friends with him before this year, had their own friends. What was happening with those friendships? Were they suffering due to the secrecy? There were just so many consequences.

They’d started with twelve. They were now eleven. Would that be it, or would there be another to leave?

-x-x-x-x-x-

Days quickly passed and life returned to its semi-normal state for Harry, and for everyone else. Harry noticed that Neville was more subdued than normal, no doubt helped along by what he learnt in their conversation. Katie was… distant was perhaps the right word. She’d made her choice and Harry had come to accept it. Daphne was right – this wasn’t for everyone. Katie was simply the first to admit it.

His extra lessons were still going relatively smoothly. Flitwick was continually pleased with Harry’s progress, as was McGonagall; however she showed her praise in a different fashion – Gryffindor was currently in the lead for House championship yet again. Slughorn had chosen to conveniently ignore their exchange about the Horcrux memory. Perhaps it was for the best.

Nevertheless, no matter how much good there was around, there were still problems. The biggest one was the constant thorn in Harry’s side since his origins in the Magical world – Draco Malfoy.

He knew he was up to something in regards to Voldemort. This had been all but said aloud at the start of the year during their first confrontation. He knew it involved the Room of Requirement. He knew another bunch of important – but at the same time useless – details. He knew things, yet lacked any of the specifics that would enable him to do something about it. Unfortunately, there was no way he knew of to gain access to the Room that encompassed what Malfoy ordered it to without knowing what he was up to, and that he could not determine unless he got in there or got it out of Malfoy, creating an almost endless cycle. The only option to end said irritating cycle was to confront the Slytherin. Problem with that was that this was something Malfoy wouldn’t just blurt out after being riled up.

The widely disliked boy was being far more cautious than ever before. This was evidenced by Daphne, her involvement, and the magical oaths that prevented anything accidentally or willingly spilling out, at least without the loss of magic and or life. The oaths interfered with any hopes of interrogating one of the other students involved, such as Nott and Parkinson. Again, it came down to confronting the Slytherin.

He wouldn’t give up Voldemort’s plan for him easily. He was now a Death Eater, and was proud of it. Though he did not look well of late – which, Harry suspected, was attributed to the plan not going well – he was still loyal to his father and, in turn, the Dark Lord. Worse, if he snitched, willingly or otherwise, he would be punished severely, if not killed outright. With the life of his father also hanging in the balance regarding his success, chances of anything besides downright, unabashed force were non-existent.

Said force would not go unnoticed. Snape was continuing to watch Malfoy carefully. Snape would see that Harry would be expelled for trying anything. Prophecy or no prophecy, Harry wasn’t confident that Dumbledore would be able to defy student, staff and media pressure, to keep him enrolled after blatantly attacking a student, particularly one who was a known adversary.

But inactivity was not a viable option either.  His indecisiveness regarding this quandary was understandable, but nevertheless frustrating.

And then something had changed when he returned from the Christmas holidays. Malfoy was even further withdrawn. The only conclusion Harry could come up with that made sense in the situation was that he’d met Voldemort or at least had a message sent to him that did not bode well for him or his father if his task wasn’t completed soon.

The rest of the DA had their opinions, some choosing to be more vocal than the rest.  “Let’s quit lounging about and get a move on, then,” Ernie exclaimed, his hands gesturing to emphasize.

“For once, I agree, Harry,” Susan, usually silent during these moments, spoke up.

“We’ve been through this –” began Harry tiredly.

“Do you have any plan or initiative at all, or are you content to shout out what we should do?” snapped Daphne at Ernie, overriding Harry’s response.

“You’re not helping any,” muttered Harry, giving her a half-hearted glare. He was not in the mood for bickering, or any of this indecisiveness at all. All he wanted was that clear solution, the one they had presumably missed that would provide an out. This waiting game was painful – just like it had been the last time.

The group had put aside the issues of Horcruxes for this. If nothing else, Malfoy was something the lot of them agreed had to be stopped.

“Calm down everyone,” placated Hermione, getting up from her seat in the Room, hands up in a soothing gesture. “This is getting us nowhere.”

Many grumblings followed until each had quieted down. Relieved, Hermione brushed a loose strand from her cheek and sat down again, giving Harry a weak smile. He offered silent thanks, and remained still for the time being.

“But… what are we going to do?” inquired Hannah into the silence.

-x-x-x-x-x-

More days came and went, along with classes, homework, assignments, and several more instances of fighting in the halls along with rendezvous in an increasing variety of areas in the castle. January neared its closure. Life continued. But the world around Harry and the DA weighed heavier than those of their peers. There was only so much one could take before frustration mounted and reeked havoc.

It was by complete accident that Harry and Malfoy crossed paths, and in the oddest of places.

Most students avoided Myrtle’s corridor, despite it being shorter in distance to a number of classes, due to their rational dislike of the ghost. Harry didn’t like the ghost either, but he wasn’t concerned enough to bypass the corridor that passed her bathroom.

It was the sound of a door opening and closing up ahead as he neared the bathroom that drew his attention. Harry was a curious person, and his curiosity questioned who was willingly entering Myrtle’s bathroom.

Harry, alone, slowed to a quiet stroll and strained to overhear any sounds from inside the bathroom. There was naught, which was unusual. Rarely did Myrtle ever greet someone entering her abode with absence of a rather noisy racket. He knew this from experience.

Harry noticed the door was not properly shut. It appeared closed from a distance; however it was still slightly open. Still, no sound emanated from the bathroom. Gently, and as silently as he could, Harry nudged the door open.

Muffled mumblings reached his ears as his ears adjusted to the silence. He leaned closer, sparing the corridors leading to the bathroom the barest of glances to ascertain whether he was alone or not, to the door and strained his ears further.

“Don’t,” crooned Moaning Myrtle’s voice from one of the cubicles. “Don’t … tell me what’s wrong … I can help you …”

“No one can help me,” said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. “I can’t do it … I can’t … it won’t work … and unless I do it soon … he says he’ll kill me …”

Harry saw, with no lack of shock, that Malfoy had tears streaming down his cheeks. It was a sight he would never have pictured he’d see. In fact, the boy without any expression besides amusement, arrogant superiority or a surprising variety of sneers and dissatisfaction was a rarity in itself. For the slightest moment, Harry pitied Malfoy. He could not resist. A difficult situation, Malfoy found himself in. No person of sixteen years should have held such pressure. The boy was no more than a product of his upbringing.

But that was also the problem. Because he was a product of his upbringing, he was an enemy to Harry, one that was working for Voldemort, one that held information he needed, one that was tasked with something – regardless of how poorly it was progressing – that would no doubt cost lives of innocents, that was a result of his declaration of loyalty to Voldemort. He could not allow himself to spare sympathy for Malfoy. He was an enemy, he had proven that when he took the Dark Mark.

Harry stepped forward, into the room. His eyes lingered on Malfoy, who had yet to notice him. Myrtle was whispering comforting words. Malfoy was nodding, though appeared too wrapped in his tears to listen. With a disgusting sound, the pale, blonde boy blew his nose and wiped his face clear. He nodded once more and looked up into the mirror. It was only then, when he peered into the mirror above a sink he stood before, did he notice an eavesdropper in the form of Harry.

Immediately, hands dashed into robes, seeking armament to attack and defend. Harry was a little quicker, having not expected the sudden negative action so early on; he was without his wand in hand already. It was a foolish mistake, but one that did not cost him.

Wand held aloft, tightly within the grasp of his right hand, Harry studied the unmoving form of Draco Malfoy. His own wand was in his right hand, though at his side. He had ceased his draw once Harry had aimed his wand at him. A scowl crossed his face.

“Potter,” spat Malfoy scathingly. The act was filled with practiced malice. It was less pronounced and honest than it had been in previous encounters, disrupted and lessened by his red rimmed eyes. He’d been caught at a weak moment.

“Malfoy,” replied Harry evenly, holding his wand steady. Given the chance, Malfoy appeared to be willing to curse him. He could not allow him the chance. But he needed answers, now he had the opportunity. He, however, would not be the first to attack. “It’s been quite some time since we’ve had a conversation, hasn’t it?”

“Stop this!” bellowed Myrtle, her pale form floating in-between the two wizards. Harry had forgotten about her since the two had drawn their wands.

Now that she brought attention to herself, for a brief moment, Harry wondered why the girl would allow someone who no doubt had ill intentions to confide in her. But that was an easy question to answer, though it brought up many problematic issues. She was lonely.

“Please, Myrtle, move aside,” Harry implored in the same tone he had greeted Malfoy with. It was neither irritated nor pleased. It was neutral. He could not show weakness before the enemy. It did, however, have the desired effect. Myrtle floated aside and remained silent. She did, though, never cease sending both living occupants in her bathroom worried looks.

“I doubt we have much time, Malfoy,” began Harry, thinking about Snape and how he was always around this boy. “So let’s skip the insults. You’re a Death Eater. You have the Dark Mark. You have been tasked a mission by Voldemort. Your mission isn’t going so well. Are you with me so far?”

Malfoy was silent. He had reacted to the name of his Master, but did not seem surprised by anything. Perhaps he should not have. After all, he had given away as much at the start of term or just minutes ago.

“What is it that Voldemort assigned you do here?” asked Harry gravely, tightening his grip on his wand. The chance he’d been waiting for was finally here. The moment he could finally take a step forward and make certain that Hogwarts would remain safe for the time being. He, as said, would not be the first to strike though. That was important.

“My mission, Potter, is something given to me by the Dark Lord himself,” Malfoy sneered, his voice filled with believable arrogance. That is, if one could overlook the pale, tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes. It didn’t make him look intimidating at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. He looked pathetic. “You think I would speak of it to you? Are you beyond deluded, Potter?”

“Never the easy way,” muttered Harry, taking a step forward. Malfoy stood his ground. He did tense and lick his lips nervously, though, his wand hand tightening.

“Harry, please don’t harm him,” Myrtle pleaded, floating beside his body and staring at him hopefully.

“I never knew you had it in you to weep, Malfoy,” Harry taunted, ignoring the ghost girl. Despite his taunt, he was neither amused nor pleased by this revelation. It was to garner a response, naught more.

Self control was the only factor in preventing the pale boy’s cheeks from flushing.

“Please Harry, Draco, don’t fight.”

“Using her, too?” asked Harry, still ignoring her, but flicked his eyes in her direction briefly. She was clearly upset – more legitimately than usual, as well. It was annoying.

“Quiet, Potter! You can not grasp the magnificence and ingeniousness of the Dark Lord’s plans.”

“You don’t deny it, I see,” Harry responded airily.

“Stop it, stop it, spot it!” screamed Myrtle incessantly.

“Do you not understand who this is and what he is up to?” Harry snapped, fed up with her. “Or do you not care for the safety of the students here in Hogwarts? Do you want them to come to harm?”

“Harry –” beseeched Myrtle.

“Bloody hell, Myrtle, his Master is the man who killed you!” Harry yelled.

“No… no, I don’t believe you. Liar!” Myrtle let out a blood curling scream. The noise was amplified by the castle walls and Harry moved to cover his ears.

Whatever else there was to be said between the two was drowned out as the world around them turned to chaos.

The moment Harry had taken his attention away from his opponent, he had acted. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry had spotted movement. Cursing himself internally for his error, Harry rolled to the side, dodging an incoming set of spells. He came to a halt just before the first stall, wand held in palm.

The two wizards held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Both of them scrunched their noses as the scent of burnt rubber assaulted their senses. The wall behind where Harry had stood now contained a dark patch. The protections on the castle normally absorbed any damage to walls instantaneously. Dark magic, it had to have been, to leave such a wound on the foundations. It would disappear within seconds, but the stakes had been decided.

“Stop it, stop it now!” Myrtle shrieked. Neither wizard paid her any mind.

“You can cast silently,” Harry stated more than asked from a crouching position on the floor. “I’m impressed.”

Malfoy sneered, wand held in preparation to strike or shield. He made no further motions to speak. Instead, he jerked his hand and released a jet black spell. Harry stepped aside and parried it with ease. A loud, echoing crash filled their ears as the parried spell collided with one of the stall walls and shattered to pieces.

Harry regained his footing quickly. The sound was enough of a distraction. He instantly waved his wand like a whip, thinking Plecto – the incantation to the percussive spell Hermione had used against Yaxley. A loud crack echoed in the small bathroom, causing a brief ringing in the occupants’ ears. Wincing at the sound, Malfoy dodged to the side. He was aware of the spells intentions, though not the trajectory. The spell impacted on one of the sinks near the entrance to the Chamber. The sink was ripped from the wall and smashed onto the stone floor. Shards scattered, laid broken on the floor. A water pipe ruptured, clear water spilling out in the air. An arc formed behind Malfoy.

The sound of rushing water filled the ears of the childhood enemies. Spells and other sounds become less audible over the torrent. The Slytherin barely managed to shield against a follow up barrage. None of the spells were more serious than a Reductor Curse. Harry knew stronger spells, knew ways to stop an attacker, but he wasn’t out for blood, just to disarm and then question.

A streak of pale red escaped the Slytherin’s wand.  Stepping to the side out of the line of fire, Harry parried the spell, recognizing it as a simple Incendio. A second later he parried a second spell, this one a purple color and one he was not familiar with. The malevolent feeling that washed through him as the spell breezed past left him with no doubt it was something Dark. The parried spells collided into separate walls of the stalls, the first catching alight, the second splintering, twisting apart, shards coating the floor and commode.

Myrtle screamed, ducking and weaving every which way.

With a decisive wave of Harry’s wand the water froze completely. From the pipe mouth to the last droplets that had spilled to the floor, it was frozen solid. The sound of the torrent of water diminished instantaneously.

Unprepared for the sudden change in terrain – the water had covered much of the floor in the short time – Malfoy, slipped and fell to the ground as he made to move aside. A second wave and a jet of familiar red light followed him down. Malfoy, however, recovered quickly enough to put up a shield and avoid unconsciousness. The shield was dropped with a furious wave and a sickly yellow spell spouted from the wand tip. Harry tried to move out of the way in time, but was forced to shield. The shield shuddered under the weight as the spell impacted. Harry nearly had to take a step back with the unexpected power behind the spell, before it finally dissipated.

Harry maintained his eye contact with Malfoy, who stood, shakily, breathing heavily. His eyes were searing with hatred and… desperation. His attacks had proven fruitless. And Harry was barely even sweating. Most of it was from the tension rather than exertion, too.

“Give it up, Malfoy,” Harry called out commandingly. Surely someone had heard the racket and was on their way. He did not wish to still be engaged when that person, presumably Snape, would arrive. This needed to end, and he still needed answers.

Malfoy clenched his wand tighter. His response was another spell Harry didn’t recognize, which was easily parried now that he was adept at it. The spell collided with a toilet. The white fixture began to melt. Harry scrunched his nose in horrified disgust as the smell and sight hit him.

“I gave you a chance, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, facing him again. Harry wanted to give Malfoy that chance, the chance to choose sides once and for all, and hopefully choose the right side. His response – the instant an opportunity arrived – to attack confirmed his decision, however, in Harry’s mind. There was no doubt that Malfoy was an enemy. He had not hesitated to harm. He was an enemy. That was all there was to it now. No more chances.

“What are you doing in the Room of Requirement?” demanded Harry.

Malfoy sneered – the only response he seemed capable of. “You really are deluded if you think I’ll talk.”

“Give up, Malfoy. You’ve lost. You can’t defeat me. It’s useless to keep fighting. Now answer the question,” Harry said ponderously, resolutely. A twinge of pain came from the back of Harry’s head. He winced.

“The Dark Lord will succeed, Potter,” Malfoy replied smugly, superiorly. His disheveled appearance, however, lacked his usual grace. “You can’t stop him.”

“Cru-”

“Sectumsempra!”

Malfoy’s face, seconds earlier covered with spiteful arrogance, was now wide with shock. Blood, dark red blood splashed onto the floor, staining it instantly. The cool, clear ice instantly darkened with the life liquid.

Another scream, louder than before, filled the room. Myrtle was screaming something, hollering for attention, but Harry’s mind had shut it out. He was horrified, horrified, as he watched as more and more blood spurted from Malfoy’s chest and left arm.

He had reacted. Malfoy had begun to cast an Unforgivable, and he had reacted. He knew not why, but that spell was the first that had come to his mind.

The door to the bathroom slammed open, startling Harry.  Snape hurriedly took in the shattered stalls, frozen water and floor, his eyes lingering on Harry, searing hatred etched on his face, before he noticed Malfoy, now collapsed, on the copious amount of blood on the floor, staining it, poisoning it. The man’s expression changed to fear, and he rushed over the distance and sat before Malfoy, drawing his wand. The man began making unusual noises, almost as if a song, while he waved his wand over the wound, leaning the boy up against him.

Harry stood in disbelief. How had this happened? It was never meant to go this way. He wasn’t supposed to have cast that spell, Malfoy wasn’t supposed to be bleeding throughout half the room, dying on the floor before him.

Slowly the sound returned to the room. Myrtle was somewhere above him wailing loudly, still yelling gibberish at him. Harry couldn’t think properly.

He had gravely harmed a human being. This wasn’t a prank, a harmless injury that would be forgotten in a week. Had Snape not appeared, Malfoy would be dead right now. He still may not live, and that thought sickened him. He may hate him but there was a dramatic difference between hate and killing someone.

In a way, he had killed before. Quirrell had died by his hand, as had the Horcrux of Riddle’s Diary. But this was not the same. This did not, could not compare. This was more real.

There was no control over his hands that had burnt Quirrell to death. He had no grasp of that power, and it was no longer available for him. The memory of Riddle was not real; it was not known that it was a piece of a soul at the time. He had dealt with that and moved on. The knowledge that the shade of Riddle had been a part of his soul had not changed that at all, strange as it may seem.

Here, however, he had been in direct control, with a real human life, one that could not be confused with a shade, in the balance. He had cast a spell, and it was killing Malfoy.

Enemy or not, he was still a human.

Despite his words, he did not seem prepared to kill after all.

Harry took a step forward.

“Potter,” Snape spat hatefully. “Stay.”

“He attacked me,” Harry responded slowly. “It was self-defense.”

“That will be determined soon enough,” Snape said. Though his attention was still on Malfoy, his tone and implied message was unmistakable. You will pay dearly for this, Harry Potter.

Malfoy, who had been silent, wide-eyed with shock, the entire time, let out a whimper. The two were startled by the noise.

“Do not even think about leaving, Potter,” Snape said with cold fury. Even had Harry not been as shocked as he was, he probably would not have disobeyed.

Snape, covered with blood, lifted Malfoy off the ground with his wand and left the room, giving Harry a severe, contemptuous look as he passed. The door was closed with a sharp bang behind him and Harry was left alone with the sounds of a crying Myrtle.

“You killed him! You killed him!” she kept whimpering hatefully.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. What had happened? He’d come in to question Malfoy, he’d been attacked, they’d dueled, and Malfoy had been about to cast an Unforgivable, so he’d defended himself.

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t in the wrong here.

He opened his eyes.

“You were watching the entire time,” Harry addressed Myrtle. “You know he attacked me first, you know he was casting far more dangerous spells than I was.”

“You still killed him!”

Sighing, Harry sunk to the ground and waited. Myrtle continued to give Harry murderous looks while he did. Harry tried to ignore her as much as possible.

Killing was something he knew was going to have to happen. He had to kill Voldemort, if no one else. The Department of Mysteries also proved that he would have to seriously harm the Death Eaters to keep them out of the fight and not allow them to be revived with a simple “Rennervate”. The reality was… hard.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. Harry didn’t leave; he couldn’t even if he wanted to. He had to see this through, and how would it look if he did leave?

Snape returned a dozen or so minutes after he left. The door slammed shut behind him as he swooped into the room.

“Potter,” spat Snape distastefully. Harry got to his feet slowly and stared back at the man. “I never thought you the one to know such Dark magic. Where did you learn that spell?”

“A book,” replied Harry immediately. “I didn’t know that was what it would do.”

“A book?” repeated Snape. “What book is this?”

“I… don’t recall.” He hesitated.

“You’re a poor liar, Pottter,” Snape sneered. “You know exactly what book it is. Tell me.”

“Fine, it’s a potions book,” Harry said with contempt. “I got it from the student storeroom at the start of semester because I wasn’t aware you weren’t teaching Potions this year. Someone else has written in it and this was one of the spells.”

Snape was impassive for a long moment. His lip then curled.

“You will bring me this book, now,” Snape ordered.

Harry made to leave the room.

“Do not delay, Potter,” Snape said softly. If Harry didn’t know better he would’ve thought the tone implied a threat.

Ignoring him, Harry passed through the door and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

The Half-Blood Prince’s book… who was this person? Until this point, Harry had believed the book to have been an incredibly lucky find. Several of the spells written in the margins had become useful additions to his repertoire. Never until now had he truly considered who the Half-Blood Prince was.

“Merlin, Harry! Are you alright?” asked Ron, taking in Harry’s ruffled appearance, once he had returned to his dormitory. Had Harry not been so deep in thought, he might have offered a response. Instead, he dived into his trunk, searching for the book.

What was he going to do? Would he give the book away, for surely it would be confiscated? Did he even want to keep it, knowing now what he did?

The answer was no. He did not want it anymore. As nice as it was being excellent at Potions because of it, the accolades were not worth the trouble.

Decision made, Harry left a perplexed Ron and ran past a dozen or so curious students to Myrtle’s bathroom. He paused outside and attempted to catch his breath. Fit or not, five floors both ways was quite the run with robes on your back.

Once ready, Harry opened the door.

Snape was still there, surveying the damage the duel had caused. Harry was certain he knew who had done most of the damage, but he was even more certain that Snape would attempt to set all the blame on him.

“This is it,” Harry said solemnly, holding the book out. Snape turned and allowed his eyes to meet with Harry’s. There was no attempt to break into his mind, this time. Snape snatched it out Harry’s hand and examined the front and back hastily, his black eyes set impassively.

“Where did you acquire this from, Potter?” he asked quietly, his eyes now examining the inside of the book.

“I told you. Slughorn – err, Professor Slughorn gave it to me at the start of term,” Harry replied honestly. “I was not aware he would be teaching Potions this year and had not gotten my supplies. I was using this book until I had my own, however the edits to the instructions proved to perform better than the standard ones, so I kept it.”

Snape was eerily silent as he continued his examination. He turned to seemingly random pages quickly, eyes raking up and down the page in an instant before turning to the next. Harry was intrigued by the reaction.

But what was most intriguing was that Harry knew which pages Snape was turning to. Snape’s surprising precision in his page turning left little doubt in Harry’s mind.

Snape knew this book.

Finally, the book was closed with a snap, and Snape eyed Harry a second time. His eyes bored into his soul. As quickly as he could, Harry closed his mind off. It was done just in time, too, as he felt a jab at his mind not even a second later.

“That is illegal, Professor,” Harry said as neutrally as he could manage. The feeler left his mind. Snape sneered briefly. With a twirl of his robe, he breezed past Harry with only a soft whisper of ‘come’.

Giving the room one last look – the damage, the duel, the consequences of what had happened - Harry followed Snape out of the door and began the march towards Dumbledore’s office while Snape locked it behind him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“I see.”

Dumbledore, as always, sat in his chair awaiting the arrival of the student and Professor. He, though, was not amused this time around.

Snape had, at the first opportunity, related a cock-and-bull theory about Harry attacking his upstanding student, who had been unable to defend himself, to the Headmaster. To be fair, it was plausible and sounded like something he would’ve done in the same timeframe as the incident after his Quidditch match the year before. Still, it was ludicrous when all three occupants of the room knew what Malfoy was up to. In the end, Harry had failed in keeping completely quiet. He’d snorted a few times at some of the lies Snape was spinning.

Dumbledore had remained silent throughout the exchange. He stared off into the distance, thinking.

Harry stood stock still and silent, awaiting his turn and explaining his version that was bound to come. The Half-Blood Prince’s potion book had been presented. If Dumbledore recognized the literature, he did not reveal it to Harry’s watchful eye.

The Headmaster nodded to himself and then locked eyes with Harry. He held the gaze unflinchingly.

“Your story please, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore spoke quietly.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied respectfully. This was one of those times when he did need to be on his best behavior, for it would reflect poorly on his character otherwise. He took a deep breath and began.

He told of how he’d heard someone in Myrtle’s bathroom as he passed and how he was curious. He told not of what he overheard, instead only what had happened once he had entered the room. He told of the duel and how it had ended, but not the words exchanged in-between.

For a long time, Dumbledore sat in silence, contemplating, at the close of the tale. Harry shuffled from foot to foot, feet beginning to ache at the constant time standing stock still, awaiting the response. He was unnerved at the lengthy delay between the tale and the response. Never had it taken this long before.

“Albus, if I may –”

“I’ve heard enough, Severus,” Dumbledore cut in, in a tired tone. “I have no doubt that Mr. Potter’s memory will prove his innocence, and I am certain you are aware of this too.”

The heavy handed rebuke came as a surprise to both of the other occupants of the room.

Suddenly, Dumbledore blinked and focused directly on the pair anticipating his response.

“Mr. Malfoy will recover without complication, from what Poppy and Serverus tell me,” Dumbledore explained, more for Harry’s benefit than anything else. He nodded his understanding and was thankful, surprisingly.

“But this is a serious matter, Harry,” Dumbledore intoned gravely. “It is common sense to not perform a spell you do not know the function of. Disasters may well await those that do. We have witnessed here one such.”

Another time, another place, Harry would have responded negatively to this. The spell had entered his mind so abruptly, so unexpectedly that his mind had gone ahead and performed the spell before he could think it through. Though, one could not truly think matters through in the throes of a duel. Harry remained silent.

“It can not happen again,” Dumbledore said, but it sounded more like an order than anything else. Harry shuffled on the spot, disconcerted by the tone.

“Serverus, I wish to converse with young Mr. Potter in private,” Dumbledore spoke commandingly. His volume did not change, however his tone did.

“Headmaster –”

“Serverus, do not make me repeat myself,” Dumbledore interrupted warningly. It brokered no argument.

A flicker of anger crossed the Potion Master’s eyes. It was gone within the same second, and had Harry not been purposely watching for a reaction, he would have missed it. The two shared their gaze a moment longer. It was just long enough to pique Harry’s curiosity. There was much more to their situation than he knew.

With a dramatic swish of his robes, that threatened to hit Harry, they came that close, he left the office in a rush. The door shut loudly. Harry would have rolled his eyes had he not been focused on more important matters.

Once the door was closed, Harry opened his mouth to speak. Dumbledore raised his palm, requesting silence. Harry complied.

“Recent events and years of experience, Harry, have led me to believe that there was more to your tale than you have yet to, or wish to, share,” Dumbledore began quietly.

Harry nodded, knowing there was little to gain by lying here.

Satisfied, Dumbledore continued. “Your motives, I’m certain, were just, Harry. However, I request that you explain them. I can not have students running amok, fighting each other without consequences.”

Harry was seconds away from mentioning that scuffles were a common activity in the halls nowadays. The only reason he held his tongue was because this did not compare to the mild bruising that the worse off students tended to receive. Until now, the fights had not progressed beyond a broken bone, and that only the once.

“Sir, you are aware of my views on Malfoy and my suspicions on his actions?” half-asked Harry formally. Again, this wasn’t the situation to speak to the man as if they were on overly friendly terms.

“I am,” Dumbledore replied.

“When I saw Malfoy in the bathroom, he was crying, speaking to Myrtle that he was failing his task and that he would be killed because he was,” Harry explained. “Malfoy spotted me before I could hear any more, and drew his wand on me immediately. I was quicker. We exchanged a few words, before Myrtle distracted me and Malfoy cast the first spell. I had him cornered, and asked about what his task was. His response was to attempt the Cruciatus on me.” Harry sighed. “I have no clue why, but the spell I used came to my mind first. I panicked, I suppose.”

A moment passed.

“Sir, do you know what Malfoy is trying to achieve?” asked Harry dead seriously. The two locked gazes, and yet another silence ensued.

“I am aware that he has been set a task for a long period now, Harry,” Dumbledore answered after deliberation.

“With respect, sir, that doesn’t answer the question,” Harry replied, dissatisfied.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as the two maintained eye contact.

“That’s very astute of you Harry,” complemented the Headmaster. “I am not privileged to the details as of yet.”

Something in the tone, or perhaps Harry’s own suspicious, told him otherwise. His earlier frustration at the lack of anything progressing on this front arose again. He decided to push his luck.

“You said earlier in the year,” continued Harry hesitantly. “That without compelling evidence little could be done to expel Malfoy. If you know that he is still working for Voldemort here at Hogwarts, why are you letting him go on?” Harry’s voice gained steam as he continued. “Even if he doesn’t get expelled, why not put an end to his… mission, or whatever? Whatever it is will result in harm to innocents, sir. It is dangerous let him run on without… consequences.”

Harry did not feel particularly proud of himself for turning the Headmaster’s own words against him. His opinion on the man was still fluctuating, never quite trusting but no longer distrusting, either. This, however, was something he could not simply ignore.

“I understand your point of view, Harry,” Dumbledore consoled in the same grandfatherly tone he usually used with him. For not the first time, Harry wished the man would show a little more emotion. Frustration, irritation, anger, pride, worry – any of the emotions would add weight to his words that they could not carry without. “I assure you that actions are being taken to prevent any possible eventuality.”

“Like, what?” responded Harry immediately. He regretted it instantly, for both its crassness and immaturity, and his tone. Still, it needed to be said.

Dumbledore’s eyes lost their twinkle.

“I can’t help thinking that nothing is happening,” Harry continued mostly undeterred. “I mentioned this to you early in the year and again several times since then. I’ve overheard that Snape has an Unbreakable Vow that is somehow involved, I found out that Malfoy is working on whatever he is in the Room of Requirement, and I’m certain he was involved in placing the necklace in my pocket and Hermione’s attempted murder.”

He finished in a dangerous tone, his expression turning grave. “I come to you for help, sir, yet you haven’t given me anything in return to show me it is worth it. You’ve said your door is open to me always. What is the point if nothing is done?”

Dumbledore had let Harry speak his mind without interruption. Now that Harry had concluded, the Headmaster surveyed him quietly, and then responded.

“We are in a precarious situation, Harry,” Dumbledore spoke wisely. “We know of young Mr. Malfoy’s task, and if his efforts are continually focused on that, there won’t be any other dangers directed at the school. He is being carefully monitored. He will be stopped before he can harm others.”

Harry swallowed that and thought carefully before responding.

“I can understand that, sir,” Harry replied. “But that still leaves the student body in danger. I know you care about their welfare. There must be an alternative.”

“I’m glad to see you are thinking this through, Harry,” Dumbledore responded appraisingly. “Yes, there are a number of alternatives, each as unsatisfying as the next, however. We can not lose the edge we have against Voldemort’s plans for Hogwarts for as long as we can hold onto it. As long as young Malfoy’s task continues, Tom will continue to focus his efforts elsewhere where the Order and Aurors can make more of an impact.”

“And if we do?” asked a solemn faced, irritated Harry. “If he finishes and… it works before we can stop it? What of the students then?”

“It will not come to that,” Dumbledore said with a tone of finality. This conversation was coming to a close.  Harry, still unsatisfied, wanted to press further, ask more, and demand proper answers. The man knew things, but he still wouldn’t budge. Weren’t they supposed to be open with each other? Weren’t they supposed to work together? Weren’t they supposed to defeat Voldemort, and not fight each other?

“I’m not sure how long I can continue trusting your decisions, Headmaster,” Harry said quietly. “I know you have your reasons… but if you do not share them with me, I can’t understand. And if I can’t understand…” His gaze lingered on Dumbledore a little longer. An unspoken message passed between them, and Harry made a decision. He turned and left the office with barely a sound.

Dumbledore sighed deeply. He sat back into his chair and tried to relax. He closed his eyes and rubbed his injured hand. It was paining him again; try as he might to hide it.

His plan was already in motion. Harry would hate him for it, of that he was certain now, but he wanted to end on his own terms, and this provided the perfect opportunity. If the sacrifice was trust… trust was important, however perhaps it would prove a necessary sacrifice to accomplish the task.

The day grew weary. What remnants of sunlight remained disappeared as the Headmaster sat in silence, staring out the window, still deep in thought.

You’ve come a long way, Harry. You may not need my help at all. But please, please be patient a little longer.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Frustration upon frustration did not lead to a cheerful demeanor. Of this, Harry knew well.

He had tried to be as polite and straightforward as he could without resorting to anger and frustration filled arguments, like he had at the end of the previous year. Consequently, he had nothing to show for it. And that only served to fuel his increasingly foul mood.

However, there was enough common sense in his head to note that he had many things to accomplish and he could not let his irritation interfere. He had made his choice. Now that he was aware that Dumbledore would not do anything until it may be too late, he had to prepare. Not just himself, but everyone else.

So he sought out the one who had brought up that topic to him recently.

“Lavender, a word?” whispered Harry. He had found her in the common room, surprisingly neck deep in her own homework.

“Okay,” Lavender said brightly. She stood up quickly, dropping her quill, her homework immediately forgotten. If anything, she was positively gleeful for the distraction.

Harry led her outside and cast the usual privacy charms. Lavender gave him a curious look and waited for him to speak.

“Are you still serious about the DA?” asked Harry, getting straight to the point.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Lavender replied adamantly. Her eyes widened slightly, comprehension dawning on her. “Does this mean…?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to start it up again,” Harry answered her unfinished question.

To his surprise, she let out a small squeal. She threw her arms around him quickly, drawing back before he even realized he’d been hugged. He shook it off as quickly as he could as Lavender beamed at him.

“Let everyone know,” Harry requested. “Sunday, straight after lunch, same place as last year.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Lavender said enthusiastically. She stepped past him, the spells breaking as she did, and set about spreading the word. If any Gryffindor could spread the world as quickly as possible, it would be Lavender.

Next, Harry visited Hermione and let her know what he had done in the past few hours. She wasn’t pleased with Harry using the spell from the Half-Blood Prince’s book, citing her earlier reservations. However she let it go quickly, seeing that Harry had turned in the textbook and was still slightly shaken by the events. She also agreed that reviving the DA was the best thing they could do to ensure that, in case anything happened that they could not prevent, the student body would be reasonably prepared.

Hermione had more to discuss, however.

“Harry, I’ve been thinking,” Hermione whispered. They were standing on the stairs to his dormitory, as it was the only place devoid of people presently.

“Hmm?” was Harry’s response as he refrained from making a smart remark.

“What destroyed…” she took a quick look around and made certain with her wand that they weren’t being overheard. “…the Horcrux in the Chamber of Secrets?”

Harry cast his mind back to that night. “The Basilisk fang?”

Hermione shook her head. “I believe it would be likely that the venom is what destroyed the soul piece.”

“Okay… what about it?”

“Basilisks take many years to decompose, Harry,” Hermione explained patiently. “That means its remains will still be there.”

“And that means the Basilisk fangs would be too,” Harry finished for her. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that already? That doesn’t matter. We can use them to destroy the rest of the Horcruxes. That’s great!” Harry paused, realizing an issue. “How can we store them? The venom is very lethal.”

“Standard potion flasks should be ample. We can charm them to be unbreakable,” Hermione said offhandedly. “We can go down there when we have time and gather what’s usable.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. Could he be so lucky to have one of perhaps few items in the world that could destroy Horcruxes nearly in his grasp? Could it be that simple, or him be that lucky?

“Have you found any other information on them?” asked Harry. “If we can find something we should try and get it in case we need an alternative to destroy the Horcruxes.”

“No, the library has nothing in the public accessible section, and I doubt Dumbledore would have information on them as easily reachable as that.”

They talked a little longer until Harry and Hermione decided to, after the meeting on Sunday afternoon, gather the other DA members and make the trip into the Chamber of Secrets. They also briefly discussed Dumbledore and his less than helpful answers. The incident only aided his deteriorating opinion of the Headmaster.

The other event of the day was still on his mind, too. One day soon he would perhaps encounter the situation he had talked about, where it would be him or them. He hoped with all he had that killing someone would be easier, though all the while knowing it wouldn’t be.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The remainder of the week passed quickly. Harry and Hermione were kept busy with questions from their peers coming from all sides, all day. The word had spread with the usual speed and fervor that he had come to know with the rumors regarding himself over the years. It had only taken an hour before the first three fellow Gryffindors had come asking if the rumors were true. They left both pleased and curious. The process repeated numerous times that evening alone.

The rest of the DA had expressed their curiosity and concerns at breakfast the following morning. Harry explained what had happened, his reasoning behind it, and that they would only have to sacrifice a short amount of their own practicing time if they wished to attend. Each of them was more advanced than the remainder of their fellow sixth years, and the material covered would have to compensate for that. Surprisingly, nobody declined. Their help would be appreciated, especially after noticing that many in the school were discussing the news, and that number was far larger than his DA from the previous year.

Finally, Sunday arrived. Over one hundred and fifty students were gathered into the one room. There were many Gryffindors, a number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and – perhaps the most interestingly – two dozen Slytherins. Daphne was present, as was Tracey Davis from their year. The rest were younger years, perhaps not as caring about the hatred for Harry as the rest.

The group of Slytherins stood separate from the rest of their peers, not associating with any others. Still, perhaps the discord amongst the Quidditch team extended deeper than he had guessed, hence their presence. Some of the more rowdy amongst the pack of students present attempted to pick fights until some of the more open minded, or a member of Harry’s DA, silenced them with warnings, threats, or a Silencing Charm.

“That’s a lot of people,” Harry observed quietly to Hermione and Padma, a little surprised.

“Everyone believes you now, remember,” Padma chided gently. “This is the kind of turnout you should have gotten last year.”

“Padma’s right,” Hermione concurred, scanning the room, taking note of who was and wasn’t in attendance. “Especially with the attacks on the rise, people are afraid. They’ll want to learn to defend themselves.”

“More than what Snape teaches, at any rate,” Neville added, stepping up beside the three of them at the front of the room.

Neville faced Harry. “None of the Slytherins here are with Malfoy, or so I’m told.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry waved off the concern abruptly. “What can he do? This isn’t illegal any more.”

“Suppose not,” conceded Neville with a small nod of his head. “Ron is also here, and Cho and Marietta as well.” Neville added, inclining his head in the direction of the redhead in question, standing near Dean and Seamus but not speaking with them, and his former crush and her best friend, the previous DA’s betrayer. Harry followed the initial gesture and the former friends locked eyes with one another for a lingering moment. At the same time, they blinked and looked away. An unspoken understanding, a truce, was formed. They would do their job and not let their past problems interfere.

Harry spotted Cho watching him intently and gave her a gentle smile, which she returned. Though they had not truly spoken since the apologies to one another, when they did speak in passing, it was polite and… not forced, but not comfortable either.

Next to the beautiful young Asian woman was her friend Marietta. The smile left Harry’s face as he focused on her. The girl appeared to sense his attentions and briefly caught his eye. She broke off almost immediately. He had not quite forgiven her for betraying them to Umbridge, and perhaps might never, though he may forget as time passed.

“I expected this,” Harry said softly.

“Just making sure,” Neville said with a small smile. He then grinned further at Hermione and Padma. “Shall we get the good ole’ Chosen One to start teaching this lot to defend themselves now?”

“Let’s,” responded Padma. “Come on, Harry. Let’s start this already.”

Harry, ignoring the jab at his press name, stepped forward at Padma’s gentle nudge in the back, the movement immediately drawing the attention of the crowd. It was only a few more seconds before he had complete silence. Even the Slytherins were awaiting his words tentatively from the back of the simple circular room.

“Hello everyone,” Harry opened, speaking loudly to ensure the vast crowd could hear him. “As you are no doubt aware, I have chosen to continue the group known as Dumbledore’s Army that began last year. The purpose of this group is to learn to defend yourselves from an attack. This is what we attempted last year, before we were forced to shut down.”

Marietta ducked her head and made to move away, but Cho put a stop to her. Harry ignored the motion – it was a simple truth, not meant to be anything more when he had spoken – and took a deep breath, growing serious.

“If you do not wish to be here, then leave. This will not be a fun class to gossip in and work when it pleases you. This will be difficult, this will be tiring, and this will be painful. If you don’t have either the desire or the drive to learn at the pace I set or have any misconceptions of what this is, leave now. We have not much time to learn quite a lot. I will expect you all to keep up, and to work outside here if you can’t or if you want to refine your ability.”

Harry and Hermione had decided this the previous evening. They had already missed half a year of possible lessons, and as a result, they had to move at an accelerated pace to cover as much as possible. If the group could not keep up or chose to only practice here, it was their loss. He would move on to the next spell as soon as he figured they’d spent enough time learning one.

After his ardent speech, nobody had made a move to leave. A small group of first, second and third years appeared to be intimidated by the seriousness of their idol, a large number exchanged whispered words with their neighbors, and a small number, including the Slytherins, maintained their focus completely on Harry, unfazed or unworried at the prospect of a difficult time.

Harry waited another minute. When nobody chose to leave, he continued.

“Good. Split into your year groups,” Harry ordered, taking charge instantly. “These are the people you will be working with while you are here. I don’t care if you have personality issues with each other, or you just dislike someone because they are in a different House. Save your problems for outside of here. When you’re in here, there is one focus, and that is to learn what I’m teaching you. Everything else is left at the door.”

Harry scanned the room again, registering the various emotions amongst his peers and juniors. More than half had already completely accepted his terms and were ready to work. The rest would follow soon enough.

Great, this may just work out fine after all.

“Well? Get a move on everyone,” Harry said impatiently, gesturing for them to move. “We’ve got a lot to cover.”

In excess of one hundred and fifty students moved into action without any further delay. Harry watched in amusement as the groups slowly formed, not without numerous collisions and poor coordination – at one point there were four separate sixth year groups.

“A little overzealous perhaps in delivery, but it was effective,” Hermione reviewed positively, stepping up beside him. She had her own smile on her face as he watched Susan, Hannah, and Luna attempt to sort out their year groups. The poor fifth years that were following Luna’s lead were quite uncomfortable about it. The conspiracy theories she was beginning to share didn’t lessen said feelings.

“It got the desired result,” Padma responded. “I don’t think we’ll have many inter-house disputes while we’re here.”

A shape started to emerge as time went by. The groups sorted themselves out. Amongst the groups containing Slytherins, there were a number of doubtful and distrustful glances, but words exchanged were kept to a minimum.

Many choices had been made to lead up to this moment, and not only Harry’s. The choice for the Slytherins to associate with the greatest enemy of the Dark Lord, who many in their house supported, was an immense one. For all those choices that led people here, this was merely the first consequence of many to come.

At last the groups sorted themselves out. Harry stepped forward again. He was strangely proud that this many fellow students had come and, despite his warnings of difficulties, chose to remain.

“Alright everyone,” he began seriously. “Today we’ll begin by learning…”

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Open.”

Harry stood up and stepped back as the set of sinks began to move and open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The remainder of the group was standing behind him, watching in awe at the sight before them. They were witnessing the entrance appear to a legendary location in the castle walls, one only a few people could enter.

“Get out of here,” Myrtle screamed. She was given only several irritated looks in response.

“Let’s go,” Harry said as the opening appeared, without the slightest glance in the ghost’s direction. He was done being nice to her.

Harry took a step forward, took a breath and jumped.

“I hope he dies,” Myrtle whispered scathingly.

“Enough of you, already,” growled Neville. Myrtle floated over to him and squinted into a glare from right before him. Any other year he’d have backed away, but he stood his ground.

“Just leave her alone,” Daphne said coldly, stepping forward to the edge of the hole in the floor. “Are we doing this or not?” And with that, she jumped down.

The remainder followed suit, and soon the entire group was gathered at the entrance to the central chamber.

“This is it,” Harry whispered. Then, in parseltongue, “Open.”

With several loud creaks, the massive, snake encrusted door opened and revealed a sight that took their breath away.

“I don’t understand…” Susan said, stepping through the door and looking around. “Where is it?”

“It was right there in the memory…” added Neville. He turned to Harry, who was staring, shocked, at the base of the statue of Salazar Slytherin on the other side of the chamber.

“It’s gone,” Harry stated blankly. “How?”

“But, Basilisk’s are supposed to take years to decompose,” Hermione was in a similar state of shock. She’d been told by her books that decomposition took dozens of years, if not more.

The group wandered forth slowly, examining the immediate area.

“There’s not a trace of any Basilisk remains being here.” Neville observed. “Only the skin we passed on the way in.”

“And it isn’t still alive; otherwise it would’ve attacked by now, surely.” Padma added, viewing the chamber in wonderment as well as confusion.

“No, Tom Riddle said it wouldn’t come unless it was called,” Harry reminded them. “And I know I killed it.” He looked into the lifeless eyes of the statue of Salazar Slytherin. “That leaves one option.”

“What would that be?” asked Ernie. All eyes turned to Harry.

Harry continued to stare into the eyes of the statue. Salazar Slytherin created the Chamber so that only he could have access. His unique ability was the ability to speak to serpents. Thus, only speakers of the serpent tongue could enter. That meant one thing and one thing alone.

“There’s another Parselmouth at Hogwarts.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N: Firstly, I kept the bathroom scene similar because it offered the opportunity for what happened in and after. But I like the alterations I made. I’m happy with that and quite excited to write the next fight scene.

Secondly, I know I said four chapters, but I did also mention that I may go over to the start of the chapter afterwards. I’ve still a bit to get through and probably won’t be done in the next chapter. We’ll see. I’ve written one and a half of eleven scenes in 3000 words…

Finally, I know someone must have done a second Parselmouth before, but I haven’t come across it. I hope to make this far less cliché and idiotic as it may have been interpreted by another.

Spell Incantations

Congelatus: become frozen – what Harry used in the bathroom.