Chapter 39
The gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore’s office had already moved aside by the time they reached it, revealing the spiral staircase that led upward. Harry exchanged a quick glance with Daphne and Gabrielle before stepping onto the moving stairs, the stone rising smoothly beneath their feet.
“Any idea what this is about?” Gabrielle asked quietly.
“With Dumbledore, it could be anything,” Harry replied, but he had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation. Not at this hour, not with everything that had happened recently.
The door to the office was slightly ajar when they reached the top. Harry pushed it open fully and stepped inside, only to raise a curious eyebrow when he saw who else was waiting for them.
Sirius stood near one of the bookshelves, his arms crossed and his expression unusually serious. That alone would have been fine, welcome even, but it was the figure standing on the opposite side of the room that made Harry’s jaw tighten.
Snape leaned against the wall near the window, his black robes blending into the shadows. His arms were folded across his chest and his dark eyes remained trained on Harry with the same cold hostility they always did.
“Harry, Miss Greengrass, Miss Delacour,” Dumbledore greeted them from behind his desk, seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. Or more likely, simply choosing to ignore it. “Please, come in and have a seat.”
Fawkes trilled softly from his perch in greeting as Harry moved further into the room with Daphne and Gabrielle flanking him. Sirius’s expression softened slightly when he looked at them. Snape’s, predictably, did not.
“Headmaster,” Harry said, taking one of the chairs in front of the desk. Daphne sat to his right and Gabrielle to his left. “You wanted to see us?”
“Indeed I did,” Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes twinkling but his expression utterly serious. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I realize the hour is late, but I’m afraid what I have to discuss cannot wait.”
Harry nodded slowly, his mind already racing through possibilities. Beside him, he felt Daphne shift slightly in her seat, her hand finding his under the armrest.
“Before we begin,” Dumbledore continued, his gaze moving over to Sirius and Snape, “I must ask for your patience with one another. I am aware that the history in this room is... complicated. However, we are all working toward the same goal, and I would appreciate it if we could set aside personal grievances for the duration of this meeting.”
Sirius grunted something that might have been agreement. Snape said nothing at all, but the muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Wonderful,” Dumbledore said, as if they’d both enthusiastically agreed. He turned his attention back to Harry and the girls. “Now then, I believe it is time we discussed a topic that has been weighing heavily on my mind. Horcruxes.”
Harry felt Gabrielle tense beside him, but her expression remained carefully neutral. Daphne’s hand tightened around his briefly before relaxing again.
“I see Miss Delacour is not surprised by this revelation,” Dumbledore observed, a slight smile playing at his lips. “I suspected as much. Harry, Miss Greengrass, I trust you understand why it was important to share this information with her?”
“She’s part of this now,” Harry said firmly. “She deserves to know what we’re facing.”
“Indeed she does,” Dumbledore agreed. “And I am glad you made that choice. Trust is perhaps our most valuable asset in this war, and secrets kept from those who should know them have a way of causing more harm than good.”
Snape made a derisive sound from his corner of the room. “How touching. Perhaps we could move past the sentimentality and address why we’re actually here?”
Sirius’s hands clenched into fists. “Maybe if you weren’t such a miserable git, Snivellus, people wouldn’t have to constantly remind you that basic human decency exists.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Snape sneered. “Tell me, Black, how many times did you and your little gang of delinquents demonstrate basic human decency during our school years?”
“Gentlemen,” Dumbledore said, and though his voice remained mild, something in it made both men fall silent. “Please.”
The room settled into an uneasy silence. Harry glanced at Sirius, who was staring daggers at Snape, and then at Snape himself, who had his usual look of contempt. This was going to be a long night. He could feel it already.
“As I was saying,” Dumbledore continued, “Horcruxes. Harry, you destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets. That leaves five more to find and destroy, if my hypothesis about the number is correct.”
“If it’s correct,” Daphne muttered under her breath.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “And I believe I have located another.”
The room fell silent again, but it was not tense. Instead, it was filled with anticipation. Harry leaned forward in his chair.
“Where?” he asked.
Dumbledore reached into his desk and pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment covered in notes and diagrams. “Tell me, Harry, what do you know of the Gaunt family?”
Harry frowned, trying to remember if he’d heard that name before. “Nothing, I think. Should I?”
“The Gaunts were the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin in Britain,” Dumbledore explained. “They lived in squalor near a Muggle village called Little Hangleton, clinging to their pure blood heritage and their connection to Slytherin even as their family fortune dwindled to nothing. Tom Riddle’s mother, Merope Gaunt, was the last of that line to have sired a child.”
Understanding began to dawn on everyone. “Voldemort’s mother’s family.”
“Indeed. After Merope’s death, the Gaunt property fell into further disrepair. It has been abandoned for decades, little more than a decrepit shack hidden away in the woods. However, I have reason to believe that Tom placed one of his Horcruxes there.”
“Why would he hide something so important in a shack?” Gabrielle asked skeptically.
“Because it represented his heritage,” Snape said, speaking for the first time since his exchange with Sirius. His voice was cold and analytical. “The Dark Lord was obsessed with his connection to Slytherin. He would see the Gaunt shack as a shrine to his ancestry, however pathetic the reality of it was.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Severus is correct. Tom had a complicated relationship with his maternal heritage. He despised his Muggle father and the poverty his mother had endured, but he took great pride in his connection to Slytherin. The Gaunt shack would have seemed an appropriate location to him.”
“What makes you think the Horcrux is actually there?” Daphne asked.
“Several things,” Dumbledore replied. “Firstly, I have learned that Tom visited the shack at least once after he returned from his travels abroad. This was shortly before he began calling himself Lord Voldemort. Secondly, there were reports of unusual magical activity in the area around Little Hangleton during that time, activity that ceased abruptly after a single night.”
He paused, his expression growing more somber. “And thirdly, I have confirmed through my research that one particular artifact associated with the Gaunt family has been missing for many years. Marvolo Gaunt, Tom’s grandfather, owned a ring that bore the Peverell coat of arms. It was his most prized possession, a symbol of the family’s ancient lineage.”
“You think the ring is the Horcrux,” Harry said.
“I do. And I believe it is still hidden within the ruins of the Gaunt shack, protected by whatever defenses Tom saw fit to place around it.”
Sirius had moved closer during this explanation, his expression troubled. “This all sounds reasonable, Albus, but there’s a problem. Voldemort knows you’ve been aware of his past. If he suspects you might figure out where one of his Horcruxes is hidden, wouldn’t Little Hangleton be an obvious place for him to set a trap?”
“That is indeed a concern,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “And one that has given me considerable pause. Tom is not a fool. He will have anticipated that I might eventually piece together his connection to the Gaunt family and investigate the shack.”
“So it could be a trap,” Daphne said flatly.
“It could be. Or it could simply be that Tom believes his protections are sufficient to deter any intruders. The shack is remote, long forgotten by the wizarding world, and almost certainly laden with dark magic. He may have decided that additional vigilance was unnecessary.”
“But you’re not sure,” Harry remarked.
“No,” Dumbledore admitted. “I am not. Which brings us to the crux of our dilemma.”
He stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
“We face a choice,” Dumbledore said finally. “We can attempt to retrieve the ring from the Gaunt shack, accepting the risks that come with such an endeavor. Or we can wait, gathering more information and hoping for a better opportunity. Both options carry significant dangers.”
“What kind of dangers are we talking about if we go now?” Harry asked.
Snape stepped forward from his position by the window. “If it is a trap, the Dark Lord will know immediately that someone has discovered the existence of his Horcruxes. He will move to protect the remaining ones, making them far more difficult to locate and destroy. He may even create additional Horcruxes to replace those already lost.”
The thought made Harry’s stomach turn. More Horcruxes meant more anchors tying Voldemort to life, more barriers between them and actually ending this war.
“And if we wait?” Gabrielle asked.
“Then we give Voldemort more time to strengthen his position,” Sirius said grimly. “He’s already broken his most loyal followers out of Azkaban. He’s attacking openly now, and his forces are growing by the day.”
“Or perhaps move the Horcrux elsewhere,” Gabrielle added. “Right now, we have a strong lead on where one of these vile things could be. If he moves it, we’d be back to square one.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, his mind working through the problem. Both options were risky. Go now, and they might walk into a trap. Wait, and they might miss their chance entirely.
“What would the protections look like?” he asked. “If we did go, what would we be facing?”
Dumbledore returned to his desk, his expression thoughtful. “That is difficult to say with certainty. Tom was seventeen when he created his first Horcrux, but he would have been older, more knowledgeable, when he hid the ring. I would expect curses designed to kill or incapacitate intruders. Perhaps crude runes too that would require blood sacrifices. Certainly concealment charms and probably some form of detection spell to alert him if the protections are breached.”
“Surely you can dismantle them?” Daphne asked.
“Some of them, yes. I am not without skill in such matters. However, the detection spell concerns me most. If Tom has indeed placed a trap, it would be foolish of him not to include some method of alerting himself to intruders.”
“Unless,” Harry said slowly, “we could dismantle the protections without triggering the detection spell.”
Snape’s lip curled. “Spoken like someone who has no understanding of the complexity involved. The Dark Lord is not some amateur wizard whose spells can be easily unraveled.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Harry shot back. “But Dumbledore just said he could dismantle some of the protections. If he could do it carefully enough, without setting off any alarms, we might be able to get in and out without Voldemort ever knowing we were there.”
“That would require exceptional skill and precision,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “The margin for error would be extraordinarily small.”
“But it’s possible?”
“Possible, yes. Advisable?” He shook his head slowly. “That is another matter entirely.”
Harry looked around at the others, trying to gauge their thoughts. Sirius looked worried but determined. Snape’s expression was unreadable as always. Daphne was chewing her bottom lip, a sign that she was deep in thought. Gabrielle’s eyes were fixed on Dumbledore.
“I think we need to consider what happens if we don’t act,” Harry said finally. “If this ring really is a Horcrux and it’s just sitting there in Little Hangleton, then every day we leave it alone is another day Voldemort has that anchor to life. And if we wait too long, he might move it or add more protections that we can’t bypass.”
“True,” Sirius acknowledged. “But if we rush in and trigger a trap, we lose our advantage. Voldemort would know we’re hunting his Horcruxes, and he’d make damn sure we never find another one.”
“Which brings us back to the same question,” Harry said. “Do we go now, or do we wait and risk losing the opportunity?”
The debate continued for another twenty minutes, with various arguments made for both sides.
Finally, Harry stood up from his chair. “I think we have to go for it.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The way I see it,” Harry continued, “if we wait, trying to find the perfect moment, we might wait forever. And in the meantime, Voldemort gets stronger, his followers get more numerous, and more people die.”
“Harry is right,” Gabrielle said, standing as well. “We cannot let fear of what might happen paralyze us.”
Daphne rose from her chair as well, her voice firm. “I agree. The risks of going are significant, but the risks of waiting might be even greater. If we’re careful, if we do this right, we can get the ring and get out without Voldemort ever knowing we were there.”
Dumbledore looked at each of them in turn, his expression grave. “You understand what you’re proposing? If something goes wrong, if we trigger a trap or if Tom happens to be monitoring the location, the consequences could be catastrophic.”
“We understand,” Harry said. “But we also understand the consequences of doing nothing.”
A long moment passed, and finally, Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. If we are going to do this, we must do it properly. Harry, you will accompany me to the Gaunt shack.”
“Why just Harry?” Sirius demanded. “If you’re going into a potentially trapped location, you need backup.”
“And we will have it,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “But a large group would make it more difficult to remain hidden. Two people can move more quietly than five, and Harry’s Invisibility Cloak is large enough to conceal both of us if necessary.”
“What about us?” Daphne asked.
“You, Miss Delacour, Sirius, and Severus will remain here. If something does go wrong, if Tom is alerted to our presence, we will need people ready to respond quickly. You will be our contingency plan.”
Snape looked like he wanted to argue, but he remained silent. Sirius, on the other hand, had plenty to say.
“This is insane, Albus. You’re taking Harry into what could be a death trap, and you expect the rest of us to just sit here and wait?”
“I expect you to trust my judgment,” Dumbledore said, and there was steel beneath the gentle words. He turned to Harry. “We should leave.”
Harry nodded and turned to go, but Daphne caught his arm.
“Be careful,” she said, her blue eyes intense. “Please, Harry. Be careful.”
He pulled her into a soft kiss and did the same for Gabrielle. “I will. I promise.”
“You’d better,” Gabrielle said fiercely. “If you get yourself killed, I will find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself.”
Despite the tension, Harry smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Ready?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded.
“Fawkes will take us to a location near Little Hangleton. From there, we will approach the Gaunt shack on foot. Once we are close, both of us will be under the cloak. We must be as silent and careful as possible. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Hold on, then.”
Harry gripped Dumbledore’s arm, and a moment later the world exploded into bright sparks around him. The sensation of phoenix travel was completely different from any other form of magical transport, and before he could properly gain a feel for it, they were standing in a small copse of trees on the outskirts of a village.
Night had fallen completely, and the darkness was broken only by scattered lights from the Muggle houses in the distance. Dumbledore had seemingly chosen the perfect location where their bright travel would not be noticed.
“This way,” Dumbledore said quietly, and began walking into the woods.
Harry followed, draping the Invisibility Cloak over them as they moved. The fabric settled over their shoulders, rendering them invisible. They walked in silence for perhaps fifteen minutes, navigating between trees and over uneven ground.
Then Dumbledore stopped.
Ahead of them, barely visible in the darkness, was a structure that barely deserved to be called a building. The Gaunt shack looked miserable, more ruin than shelter. The roof had partially caved in, and the walls were covered in moss and rot. One window hung crookedly in its frame, the glass long since shattered. The whole place radiated neglect and decay.
“This is it,” Dumbledore murmured. “Stay close and stay silent.”
They approached slowly, and as they drew nearer, Harry began to feel it. A wrongness in the air, a sensation like invisible fingers trailing across his skin. Magic, old and dark and coiled like a serpent, ready to strike.
Dumbledore stopped again, this time about twenty feet from the shack. He was staring intently at the building, his eyes moving over it.
“There,” he whispered, pointing with one finger. “Do you see it?”
Harry squinted into the darkness. At first he saw nothing, but then movement caught his eye. A faint shimmer in the air, like heat waves rising from pavement in summer. It surrounded the entire shack in a barely visible dome.
“Detection ward,” Dumbledore continued, his voice barely audible. “Quite a sophisticated one, too. Anyone who passes through it will alert whoever cast it.”
“Can you dismantle it?”
“I can. But it will take time, and I must be very careful. The slightest mistake could trigger it.”
Dumbledore drew his wand and began to work. Harry watched in fascination as the Headmaster moved his wand in complex patterns, muttering incantations too quiet for Harry to hear clearly. Occasionally, sparks of light would flare at the tip of the wand, only to be quickly absorbed into the shimmering barrier.
It was slow work. Painstaking work. Harry forced himself to remain perfectly still under the cloak, barely daring to breathe as Dumbledore carefully unraveled the detection ward one thread at a time.
After what felt like hours but was probably twenty minutes, the shimmer finally faded away.
“First layer complete,” Dumbledore whispered. “But there will be more.”
They moved closer to the shack, stopping again when they reached the door. Or rather, the gap where the door had once been. It now hung from a single hinge, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.
“Here,” Dumbledore said, pointing at the doorframe. “And here. And there.”
Harry looked where he was pointing and saw more wards, these ones carved directly into the rotting wood in runes he didn’t recognize.
“Curse triggers,” Dumbledore explained. “Anyone who passes through this doorway without the proper counterspell will be hit with what I believe is a modified concussion hex. Quite nasty.”
“Can you dismantle them too?”
“I can. But these will be even more delicate than the detection ward.”
Again, Dumbledore set to work. His wand moved in precise, controlled patterns, and Harry could feel the magic building in the air around them. It was impressive, watching the Headmaster work. Each movement was calculated, each spell carefully chosen. There was no wasted motion, no uncertainty. This was magic at its highest level, performed by someone who had spent decades mastering his craft.
Slowly, the runes on the doorframe began to fade. One by one they disappeared, unraveled by Dumbledore’s careful spellwork. When the last one finally vanished, Dumbledore lowered his wand and let out a slow breath.
“We may enter,” he said quietly.
They stepped through the doorway together, still covered by the Invisibility Cloak. The interior of the shack was even more depressing than the exterior. What furniture remained was broken and rotting. The floor was covered in debris, dead leaves, and what looked like animal droppings. The smell was overwhelming, a mix of mold and decay.
“Charming,” Harry muttered.
“Indeed. The Gaunts were not known for their housekeeping.” Dumbledore moved his wand in a slow arc, and a faint blue light emanated from its tip, illuminating the interior. “There should be two rooms. This main area and a bedroom through that doorway there.”
Harry looked where Dumbledore was pointing and saw another opening in the far wall, this one just a dark rectangle leading deeper into the shack.
“We need to search thoroughly,” Dumbledore continued. “If the ring is here, it will be hidden. Concealed behind protections and illusions. I cannot detect any traps, so it should be safe to split up and cover more ground. But Harry, it would be prudent to remain within sight of each other. Call out if you find anything.”
Harry nodded and moved toward the left side of the room while Dumbledore examined the right. He moved carefully, testing each floorboard before putting his full weight on it. The last thing they needed was for the floor to collapse beneath them.
The search was tedious work. Harry checked every corner, every crack in the walls, every suspicious shadow. He found nothing but rot and decay. Old nests built by long departed animals. Broken bottles covered in dust. The remnants of what might once have been a cooking pot, now rusted beyond recognition.
“Anything?” he called quietly to Dumbledore.
“Not yet. I am moving to the bedroom.”
Harry continued his search of the main room, growing increasingly frustrated. If there was a Horcrux here, it was well hidden. He was beginning to wonder if they’d made a mistake, if perhaps Dumbledore’s theory had been wrong.
Then his foot caught on something.
He looked down and saw a section of floorboard that sat slightly higher than its neighbors. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but now that he’d felt it with his foot, he couldn’t unsee it.
“Professor,” he called, keeping his voice low. “I think I found something.”
Dumbledore appeared in the doorway almost instantly, moving with surprising speed. “Show me.”
Harry pointed at the floorboard. Dumbledore knelt beside it, examining it closely in the light from his wand.
“Well spotted, Harry. This board has been replaced more recently than the others. The nails are newer, less rusted.” He ran his wand over the board, and Harry saw his expression grow more intent. “And it’s warded. Heavily warded.”
“The Horcrux is under there?”
“I believe so. But we must proceed with extreme caution. Tom would not have left his prize unprotected.”
Dumbledore began the painstaking process of dismantling the wards on the floorboard. This took even longer than the previous work, and Harry could see sweat beading on the Headmaster’s forehead despite the cold. The magic here was older, more concentrated, more dangerous.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, Dumbledore sat back on his heels.
“The primary protections are down,” he said. “But there may be more underneath. Stand back, Harry.”
Harry took several steps back as Dumbledore carefully pried up the loose floorboard. It came free with a groan of old wood, revealing a small hollow beneath.
And there, sitting in the hollow, was a ring.
It was a heavy, ugly thing, made of what looked like black gold. The band was carved with strange symbols, and set into it was a black stone that seemed to absorb the light from Dumbledore’s wand. Looking at it made Harry feel vaguely ill.
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s a Horcrux. I can feel it.”
Dumbledore stared at the ring with an expression Harry couldn’t quite read. The Headmaster reached out slowly, his hand extending toward the ring.
“Professor, wait!” Harry said sharply.
But Dumbledore’s hand was already moving, his fingers inches from the ring.
Harry lunged forward and grabbed Dumbledore’s wrist, pulling his hand back. “Don’t touch it! It could be cursed!”
Dumbledore blinked, and suddenly the strange, unfocused look in his eyes cleared. He stared at Harry, then at his own outstretched hand, and then back at the ring.
“Merlin,” he whispered. “Harry, you might have just saved my life.”
“What happened? You looked like you were in a trance.”
“I nearly was.” Dumbledore pulled his hand back completely, cradling it against his chest as if it had been burned. “The ring carries a compulsion charm, one designed to make anyone who finds it want to put it on. I should have anticipated that. Foolish of me.”
“What would have happened if you’d put it on?”
“Nothing good, I suspect. Almost certainly death, quite possibly something worse.” He took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. “Thank you, Harry. That was quick thinking.”
“We need to get it to Hogwarts,” Harry said, eyeing the ring warily. “Can we transport it safely?”
Dumbledore pulled a small leather pouch from his robes. “This bag is enchanted to contain dark objects. It should be sufficient.”
Using his wand, never touching the ring directly, Dumbledore levitated it into the bag and pulled the drawstring tight. The moment the ring disappeared into the pouch, Harry felt some of the pressure in his chest ease.
“Now,” Dumbledore said, climbing to his feet. “We must leave quickly and carefully. Fawkes?”
The phoenix appeared in a flash of flame, trilling softly. Dumbledore placed one hand on Fawkes’s tail feathers and held out his other hand to Harry.
Harry gripped Dumbledore’s hand, and a moment later the world dissolved into fire.
This time, Harry allowed himself to properly gain a feel for it. Instead of compression, there was warmth. Instead of darkness, there was brilliant light. Harry felt himself pulled forward, stretched across space in a way that should have been painful but wasn’t.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the journey ended. They materialized in Dumbledore’s office with a soft whoosh.
The others were still there, waiting. Sirius sprang to his feet the moment they appeared. Snape straightened from his position against the wall, his eyes sharp. Daphne and Gabrielle rushed forward, and Harry found himself enveloped in their arms before he could even speak.
“Thank Merlin,” Daphne breathed. “You’re alright.”
“We’re fine,” Harry assured her, though his heart was still racing from the close call with the ring. “We got it.”
“Without incident?” Snape asked skeptically.
“Mostly without incident,” Dumbledore corrected, and there was something rueful in his tone. “I came dangerously close to making a fatal error. If not for Harry’s quick intervention, I would likely be dead or worse.”
That got everyone’s attention. Sirius demanded details, and Dumbledore provided them, explaining about the compulsion charm on the ring and how Harry had stopped him from touching it.
“The ring wanted to be worn,” Dumbledore concluded. “It was calling to me, showing me things I wanted to see. If I had put it on, the curse embedded in the band would have killed me within moments.”
“What kind of things did it show you?” Gabrielle asked quietly.
Dumbledore’s expression grew distant. “Old memories. Old regrets. The ring carries more than just a piece of Tom’s soul, I believe. There is another magic at work there, something ancient. But we can examine that more closely later. For now, we must focus on destroying the Horcrux.”
He placed the leather pouch on his desk, and even through the enchanted material, they could feel the malevolence radiating from it.
“Well,” Sirius said after a moment, “at least the tension while you were gone gave us something to focus on.”
“I’m sure it was delightful for all of you,” Dumbledore said dryly. “Severus, Sirius, I trust you managed not to kill each other in our absence?”
“Barely,” Sirius muttered.
“The restraint was extraordinary,” Snape added with heavy sarcasm.
Dumbledore’s lips twitched, but he made no further comment on the obvious hostility between the two men. Instead, he walked to one of his cabinets and removed a long, cloth wrapped bundle.
Harry knew what it was before Dumbledore unwrapped it. The sword of Godric Gryffindor gleamed in the light, its rubies glinting like drops of blood.
“This blade is one of the finest goblin work in existence,” Dumbledore said, holding the sword carefully. “It is imbued with the power to destroy dark magic, having been strengthened by basilisk venom when Harry used it in the Chamber of Secrets.”
He held the sword out to Harry. “I believe you should be the one to do this.”
Harry stared at the offered weapon, memories of the Chamber flooding back. The weight of the blade, the moment it had pierced the basilisk’s skull, the way it had felt like an extension of his own arm… everything came rushing back to him in that moment.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Quite sure. You have earned this right.”
Harry took the sword as Dumbledore retrieved the leather pouch from his desk and carefully emptied its contents onto a clear space. The ring tumbled out, landing with a dull thud on the wooden surface.
“Stand back, everyone,” Dumbledore instructed. “We do not know exactly what will happen when the Horcrux is destroyed.”
The others moved to the edges of the room. Daphne and Gabrielle positioned themselves on either side of the door while Sirius stood near the bookshelves, their expressions grim. Snape had retreated to his corner by the window, his arms crossed but his posture tense.
Harry approached the desk slowly, the sword held firmly in both hands. The ring seemed to pulse as he drew nearer, and he could swear he heard whispers at the edge of his hearing.
“Do not listen to it,” Dumbledore said quietly from beside him. “Focus on what you must do.”
Harry nodded and raised the sword above his head. For just a moment, he hesitated. Not out of fear or doubt, but out of the sheer meaning of what he was about to do. This was a piece of Voldemort’s soul. A fragment of the darkest wizard in generations. Destroying it brought them one step closer to ending this war, to making Voldemort mortal again.
He firmed himself and brought the sword down.
The blade struck the ring dead center, cleaving through the metal band. For a single heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the room exploded.
A loud, inhuman, and agonizing scream tore through the air. The metal band shattered into fragments, and from those fragments poured a thick, dark smoke that writhed like a living thing.
Harry stumbled backward, his ears ringing from the scream. The smoke formed itself into a vague humanoid shape, a twisted mockery of a face appearing within it. The face was Voldemort’s, or something close to it, contorted in rage and pain.
“YOOOUUU!” the thing shrieked. “You dare! You DARE!”
The smoke lunged toward Harry, but before it could reach him, Dumbledore’s wand flashed. A barrier of brilliant blue light sprang up between Harry and the Horcrux fragment, and the smoke recoiled as if burned.
“It cannot harm you,” Dumbledore said, though his voice was strained from maintaining the barrier. “It is merely the death throes of dark magic. It will pass.”
The smoke writhed and twisted, its screams growing more desperate. It threw itself against Dumbledore’s barrier again and again, but each time it was repelled. Slowly, inevitably, it began to dissipate.
“This is what you’ve reduced yourself to, Tom,” Dumbledore said, and there was genuine sadness in his voice. “Fragments of a soul, torn and scattered. This is what your fear of death has brought you.”
The smoke seemed to recoil at those words. Its screams took on a different quality, something that might have been fear or rage or both. It made one final attempt to break through the barrier, hurling itself forward with all its remaining strength.
The barrier held. The smoke burst apart like a bubble, dissipating into wisps of darkness that faded away to nothing. The screaming cut off abruptly, leaving only ringing silence in its wake.
For several long moments, nobody moved. Harry stood frozen, the sword still gripped in his hands, staring at the spot where the smoke had been. The fragments of the ring lay scattered on Dumbledore’s desk.
“Is it done?” Gabrielle asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It is done,” Dumbledore confirmed, lowering his wand. The blue barrier faded away. “The Horcrux has been destroyed.”
Sirius let out a breath he’d been holding. “Merlin’s beard. That was...”
“Horrible,” Daphne finished. “That was horrible.”
“That was necessary,” Snape said coldly, though Harry noticed his hands were shaking slightly. Even Snape, who had seen countless dark things in his years as a Death Eater and spy, looked shaken by what they’d just witnessed.
Harry lowered the sword slowly, his arms trembling from more than just physical exertion. Two Horcruxes destroyed. Two pieces of Voldemort’s soul torn away from their anchors and sent back to whatever hell awaited them.
“Four more, if you’re right,” he said, his voice rough.
“Four,” Dumbledore nodded.
“Do you know where they are? Any idea?”
“I have theories. We talked about Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. That could be one. And I am looking into another, but it will take time. Information is scarce, and being too obvious about seeking it would attract attention we cannot afford.” Dumbledore moved to his desk and began carefully gathering the fragments of the destroyed Horcrux. “But tonight, we can take solace in the fact that we have struck another blow against Tom’s immortality.”
Harry set the sword down on the desk, his muscles finally beginning to relax. Immediately, Daphne and Gabrielle were at his side, their hands finding his.
“You did well,” Daphne said softly.
“We all did,” Harry replied. He looked around at the others, at Sirius’s proud but worried face, at Snape’s carefully neutral expression, and at Dumbledore’s grave look of satisfaction. “We’re actually doing this. We’re destroying them.”
“Indeed we are,” Dumbledore agreed. “Though I fear it will only get more difficult from here. The remaining Horcruxes will be better protected, better hidden.”
“Then we’ll find them anyway,” Gabrielle said fiercely. “However long it takes, however difficult it is, we’ll find them and destroy them.”
Sirius moved closer, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you. What you did tonight, stopping Albus from touching that ring and then destroying the Horcrux, that took real courage.”
“I just did what needed to be done.”
“That’s what courage is,” Sirius replied. “Doing what needs to be done even when you’re terrified.”
Harry wanted to protest that he hadn’t been terrified, but that would have been a lie. He had been scared. Scared of triggering a trap at the shack, scared of what would happen if they were discovered, scared of the Horcrux itself. But he’d done it anyway, and they’d succeeded.
“You should all get some rest,” Dumbledore said. “It has been a long and trying night, and tomorrow brings new challenges. Severus, Sirius, thank you for your presence here tonight. Your support, however grudgingly given, was appreciated.”
Snape inclined his head slightly but said nothing. He moved toward the door, pausing only to look back at Harry with an expression that might have been something other than loathing. Respect, perhaps, or at least acknowledgment. Then he was gone, his robes billowing behind him.
“I guess that’s my cue as well,” Sirius said. He pulled Harry into a brief but fierce hug. “Be careful. We’ve won a victory tonight, but the war is far from over.”
“I know. You be careful too.”
Sirius nodded to Daphne and Gabrielle before stepping inside the fireplace. He was gone a moment later in a flash of emerald fire.
Dumbledore moved to one of his cabinets and pulled out three small vials containing a silvery liquid. “Dreamless Sleep potion. I suggest you each take one tonight. What you’ve witnessed and done tonight may trouble your rest otherwise.”
Harry accepted one of the vials gratefully. He knew from experience that his dreams could be vivid and disturbing at the best of times. After tonight, with the screaming face of the Horcrux fragment still fresh in his mind, he suspected his nightmares would be particularly bad.
“Thank you, Professor,” Daphne said, taking her vial.
“Yeah, thanks,” Gabrielle added, pocketing hers.
“Before you go,” Dumbledore said, “I want you to understand something. What we are doing, this hunt for the Horcruxes, it is perhaps the most important work being done in this war. More important than battles, more important than political maneuvering. Every Horcrux we destroy brings us closer to a world where Tom Riddle can finally, truly die.”
He paused, his blue eyes moving from Harry to Daphne to Gabrielle.
“But it is also dangerous work. Tonight could have ended very differently. If Harry had not stopped me from touching the ring, I would be dead. If the protections at the shack had been more sophisticated, we might have triggered a trap. We were fortunate, but we cannot count on fortune alone.”
“We understand the risks,” Harry said.
“I know you do. I simply wanted to ensure that we are all clear on what we’re facing. The next Horcruxes will not be easy to find or destroy. Tom is many things, but careless is not one of them. He will have hidden them well, protected them thoroughly. Finding them will require patience, cleverness, and no small amount of luck.”
“We’ll manage,” Gabrielle said with quiet confidence. “We have so far.”
Dumbledore smiled at that. “Indeed you have. Now, off to bed with you. Morning will come all too soon, and you have classes to attend.”
The three of them made their way down the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. It was late, well past curfew, but the Aurors they passed merely nodded to them without comment. Apparently word had spread that they were to be left alone.
They walked in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they reached the seventh floor corridor that Harry finally spoke.
“Want to spend the night here?” he asked. “The room can give us a comfortable place to sleep.”
“That sounds perfect,” Daphne agreed.
Harry paced in front of the wall, thinking of a safe, comfortable place where they could rest undisturbed. The door appeared, and they stepped through into a room that looked like a combination of a bedroom and a sitting room. A large, comfortable bed dominated one wall, while soft chairs were arranged around a fireplace on the other side.
They shed their school robes and collapsed onto the bed, Harry in the middle with Daphne and Gabrielle on either side. For a few minutes they just lay there, processing everything that had happened.
“That scream,” Gabrielle said eventually. “When the Horcrux was destroyed. That’s going to give me nightmares for weeks.”
“Take the Dreamless Sleep potion,” Harry suggested. “That’s what it’s for.”
“I will. But still. Seeing what Voldemort has done to himself, tearing his soul into pieces like that. It’s monstrous.”
“He is a monster,” Daphne said flatly. “That’s why we have to stop him. Not just defeat him, but truly end him. No more Horcruxes, no more anchors to life. When we’re done, when he dies, it needs to be permanent.”
Harry reached out and pulled them close. “We’ll make it permanent. Hopefully Dumbledore is right and we’ve got four more Horcruxes to destroy. That’s all that stands between us and making Voldemort mortal again.”
“And then?” Gabrielle asked.
“And then we kill him,” Harry said simply. “However we have to do it, we end this. For good.”
They fell silent again, but it was a comfortable silence. Despite everything they’d been through tonight, despite the danger and the fear and the horror of destroying another Horcrux, they were together. And as long as they had each other, Harry believed they could face whatever came next.
Eventually, they remembered the Dreamless Sleep potion. Each of them drank their vial, and within minutes Harry felt the potion’s effects beginning to take hold. His eyelids grew heavy, and the anxious thoughts that had been circling his mind began to fade.
“Goodnight,” he mumbled, already half asleep.
“Goodnight, Harry,” Daphne whispered.
“Sweet dreams,” Gabrielle added, though they all knew the potion would ensure they had no dreams at all.
To be continued…