Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: In which I have fun shooting cannonballs at the H/G ship-and even better, the cannonballs are from canon! (Bad joke but couldn't help it.)
For Gil- just because. *hugs*
From My Soul
Part 2
Harry and Ron crept down the stairs of the Burrow, each with their wand in hand and a backpack into which they'd thrown whatever they could-shrunk so it'd all fit.
"There you two are."
Harry blinked, surprised and glad to see Hermione waiting for them in the kitchen. He'd been afraid she might not be ready or might not have been able to get away without bothering Ginny or something. And he wanted to avoid any uncomfortable goodbyes with any of the Weasleys.
He gestured with one hand and they all slipped outside, where the sun was just beginning to tinge the sky orange and pink.
Ron looked at Harry. "Where are--"
He never finished the question because at that moment another voice interrupted. A voice that made Harry's insides twist unpleasantly with apprehension. He'd wanted to avoid a scene like this which was why he'd insisted on their leaving at dawn…
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked in a sharp whisper, her gaze moving from Hermione to Ron and finally settling on Harry.
He noticed in the corner of his mind that Ron seemed to step back a little, leaving him to face Ginny on his own. She met his gaze head-on for the first time since he'd arrived at the Burrow, suspicion in every line of her pyjama-and-robe-clad form.
"I have to do something," he finally said lamely.
She snorted a little and he blurted out rather desperately, "I promised Dumbledore!"
Her expression softened at this but her stance didn't change.
"What do you have to do that requires you to leave like this-like you're not going to come back?"
"I- I can't tell you," Harry said, miserably uncomfortable and wishing desperately to get away. And it was true; it was why he'd wanted to leave without saying a real goodbye to Ginny, because he couldn't explain where they were going and why or anything. He couldn't; he had promised Dumbledore and he wouldn't break his promise. But more than that, he realized in that moment, even if he hadn't promised Dumbledore, he wouldn't have really wanted to tell Ginny anyway. Her one brush with Voldemort in her first year aside, she hadn't really been around for the rest of it; she didn't know everything of the past few years. She didn't know and he didn't feel right talking about it with anyone except for Ron and Hermione, whom he told just about everything anyway. Promise or no, he wouldn't have wanted to tell Ginny. And he suddenly wondered what that said about his feelings for her, about how serious their relationship had been.
But now wasn't the time to think about that. Now he just needed to get away…
An unreadable expression crossed Ginny's face and she nodded jerkily to indicate Ron and Hermione. "But you've told them."
He nodded helplessly and watched as a mask seemed to drop over Ginny's face, making it hard and cold.
"I guess that's that, then. Goodbye, Harry, Ron, Hermione." Her voice was stiff with displeasure and she gave him a last look he couldn't quite decipher before turning and going back inside.
And he knew that it was really over. Even if he survived the final confrontation with Voldemort, it was over between him and Ginny. Once and for all. There was no way to bridge the gap between them now; there were too many things he couldn't tell her, too many things he didn't want to tell her…
So much for his unacknowledged little niggling hope that maybe, after all this mess with Voldemort was sorted out, maybe he and Ginny could- he didn't know- continue what they'd started, get back together…
But no more. It was over.
He stared at the door through which she'd gone for another few seconds before mentally shaking himself. He didn't have time for this; he had a horcrux to find, three horcruxes actually.
He turned back to face Ron and Hermione again, noting how they both looked uncomfortable, Ron refusing to meet his eyes.
"Grimmauld Place, first," he said simply and only waited to see their nods before he closed his eyes, focusing until he felt the unpleasant squeezing sensation of Apparition.
It hadn't changed at all, he thought, as he looked around Grimmauld Place, hearing the pop of first Hermione Apparating beside him and then Ron on his other side. It still looked bleak and dirty and gloomy, in the early morning light.
He looked up to see Number Twelve squeeze into existence between Eleven and Thirteen in its usual fashion and swallowed hard before walking forward.
It was one of the things he'd found when he'd gone to Diagon Alley on his birthday last week to get more money from Gringotts; his inheritance from Sirius had already been added to his vault, including the key to this house.
It was dark inside, dust having settled onto things and he suppressed a shudder.
Beside him, he felt Hermione draw closer as if to dispel some of the gloom settling over him by reminding him that he wasn't alone.
He glanced at her, a silent thanks for her support in his eyes, and then at Ron. "Let's find that locket," he said simply.
The sack wasn't where they remembered putting it; Kreacher had probably moved it, to save what was inside, he thought with a grimace.
Finally they split up to look for it; it had to be in the house somewhere… The thought did occur to him that Mundungus Fletcher might have filched it-but he doubted it. He somehow didn't think the locket would have been hidden by Kreacher in a place Dung would have looked or that it was the sort of object Dung would have appreciated, an old locket no one could open.
Harry paused outside the room which Sirius had used. He doubted the locket would be in it (he couldn't imagine Kreacher ever hiding a Black heirloom or any item in this room even with Sirius gone) but he wanted to look, wanted to see…
Slowly he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Immediately he felt Sirius's presence in the room almost as if Sirius had just stepped out and would be coming back any minute. The room was full of his spirit, his presence, somehow, as if the force of his personality lingered on in the room even a year after his death.
It didn't look like anything had been moved in the last year and slowly, his body moving almost of its own volition, he moved to the old battered-looking dresser and opened the first drawer.
And then blinked and had to swallow several times, hard, his heart squeezing at what he saw.
To one side was a picture of Sirius with James and Lily and Remus. They were all grinning, Remus elbowing Sirius for whatever Sirius had just said that had him smirking and as he watched, James leaned over and kissed Lily's cheek, making her flush and laugh.
They looked so happy, so young, so carefree…
He felt, to his horror, a lump of emotion in his throat and pricking at the back of his eyes and looked away.
Only to see that on the other side of the drawer were letters, letters he recognized. The letters he'd written and sent to Sirius during 4th year.
Ridiculously, the letters-the fact that Sirius had kept them-touched him more than even the picture had and he sat down heavily on the bed, staring alternately at the picture in one hand and the letters in his other.
"Harry, I found it!"
He heard Hermione's excited voice a second before she burst into the room, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright and holding something in her hand.
She took one look at his face and faltered, concern replacing the excitement. "Harry, what is it? What's wrong?"
She moved closer, sitting down beside him on the bed and looking at what he held.
"Oh," she breathed softly, understanding and sympathy in the one word and in the look she gave him.
He stiffened, automatically tensing to reject any pity but she said nothing more, nothing to indicate pity. She only sat beside him, putting a hand on his arm-and somehow her very presence was more a comfort than anything else. Somehow, even without his saying anything, she understood. Understood some of what he was feeling, understood that, at that moment, he didn't want to hear any feeble words of comfort, no matter how sincere they might be… She just understood… And that was a beautiful, incredible thing.
Sirius, his parents, were gone. Dumbledore was gone. He couldn't rely on them anymore. He was alone now-but he still had Hermione. And he still had Ron. Ron helped, just by being there, by being himself. And Hermione-he could rely on Hermione- could rely on her for help, for knowledge, for magic… Now that Dumbledore was gone, Hermione was the only person he could turn to when he didn't know something. He had Hermione, the cleverest and most powerful witch of their year-and that was something.
He gave himself another mental shake, forcing his mind to return to the task at hand, finally looking at what was in Hermione's hand, recognizing it immediately.
It was Slytherin's locket.
Slowly he reached for it, taking it from her, feeling the way the gold had absorbed the warmth of her hand on top of its original warmth.
Yes. This was a real Horcrux. He could feel it, somehow. There was something- he couldn't describe what- but it was clear this was no ordinary locket.
This was the real Horcrux.
"Harry," Hermione began rather hesitantly though gaining confidence when he looked at her curiously, "Regulus Black said he planned to destroy the Horcrux to bring Voldemort closer to mortality. Did he succeed? Is the locket still a Horcrux? I- I don't know anything about Horcruxes other than what you've told us. There was nothing on it in the library; didn't you say something about it being a forbidden subject at Hogwarts? I don't know; I can feel that it's powerful but I don't know if that's just because it belonged to Slytherin or because it's still a horcrux."
In some detached portion of his mind, he noticed with a small flare of something like amusement, how hard it looked for Hermione to admit that he probably knew more about something magical than she did, how hard it was for her to admit that she didn't know the answers.
He smiled slightly, knowing this wasn't remotely funny but somehow feeling a renegade flicker of amusement nonetheless. "I don't know either," he admitted. "I told you everything Dumbledore told me so I don't know anything more than you do."
She seemed to deflate slightly and he opened his mouth to say- something, he wasn't quite sure what but the words never left his mouth as at that moment, Ron found them.
"Harry, I tell you I think that bloody twisted Kreacher--" Ron said and then stopped, frowning as he looked at the two of them sitting together on Sirius's bed and Harry suddenly realized that Hermione's hand was still on his arm. "What's going on here?" he asked, a tinge of suspicion making his voice sharper than it normally was.
"Hermione found the locket," Harry said simply, determinedly ignoring the small twist of annoyance he felt at how quickly Ron always seemed to leap to the worst possible conclusion about the two of them whenever they did so much as talk to each other without him there. He ought to trust Hermione more than that if he were really dating her; he ought to trust Harry more than that, come to think of it.
"Brilliant. Where was it?" Ron asked, turning to Hermione, his momentary suspicion forgotten.
"In Kreacher's little den. He'd put it there along with some of the other things he thought were precious."
Harry stifled a small, serious smile at the mixture of indignation at the system and the family that had made Kreacher what he was along with her instinctive, automatic recoiling from Kreacher's treachery and betrayal which he could hear in her tone. He understood that Hermione was disturbed by Kreacher to say the least as she was too clear-sighted not to understand that, in large measure, Kreacher deserved every bit of harsh treatment even as she rebelled against the treatment given to every other house elf.
Ron gave an exaggerated shudder. "That nutter." He looked at the locket in Harry's hand with a sort of horrified fascination. "That thing has V-v- You-Know-Who's soul in it?"
"Not Voldemort's entire soul, just part of it. 1/7th of it to be exact," Harry corrected automatically and then realized, when Ron gave him an odd look, that he'd unconsciously copied Hermione's didactic tone when she corrected one of their errors. Well, if her voice was in his head as the voice of his conscience, he supposed it wasn't surprising either. He'd certainly spent enough time with her… And she was nearly always right anyway… There were worse people to imitate.
"Absolutely bloody barmy, if you ask me. Dividing up your soul like that; it's just not natural. Explains a lot about You-Know-Who, though," Ron muttered, sounding thoroughly disgusted and creeped out.
Harry's eyes met Hermione's and they both grinned involuntarily. Trust Ron to summarize up what was so horrific about the Horcruxes. Not natural. That about said it.
This was why he was glad Ron was with him for all this, Harry thought. Not for actual help with the magic to destroy the Horcruxes but just to keep him sane, to provide the sort of real-world, humorous attitude he needed to remind him that the entire world didn't consist of Voldemorts or even Dumbledores.
"So now what? Do we just break the thing or what?" Ron asked, looking at Harry expectantly.
"I- er- I don't know."
"Brilliant. I'm so glad I agreed to help you with this, mate," Ron said mockingly and Harry gave him a half-apologetic smile. He knew Ron was only teasing, would never have allowed him to just go off alone, any more than Hermione would have.
They were silent, all of them looking at the locket in Harry's hand for a moment, until Harry finally said, "I think we just need to keep this with us until we figure out what to do with it. We've got 2 other Horcruxes to find as it is."
Ron frowned. "Two? I thought you said there were 6 other Horcruxes."
"The diary was one but I destroyed that in 2nd year. Marvolo's ring was another but Dumbledore got rid of that. The last piece of Voldemort's soul is still in his body; it's what's kept him alive- or sort of alive- all these years. Then there's…" Harry paused, realizing the sheer enormity of the task facing him.
Hermione finished for him. "It's the locket, the cup, the snake, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's." There was a sort of rhythm to the list, a familiar one and he realized that Hermione had just repeated the silent mantra he had had going through his mind in those first days after Dumbledore's death and wondered why he felt so little surprise at this evidence that she had thought of them in the same order as he had, that she had also been thinking about them and what they might need to do to find them.
"We can't really go out and find Nagini since he's probably with Voldemort anyway. Hufflepuff's cup and the relic of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's are the only two we can really search for, right now," Hermione continued.
"The only thing is, they could be anywhere-and we don't know what it is of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's we're looking for," Harry finished on a gloomy note. The more he thought about it, the more he felt ill-prepared for all this. What did he know about horcruxes? Barely anything. What did he know about destroying a horcrux? Next to nothing-except that destroying the ring had nearly killed Dumbledore, which didn't inspire confidence in his ability to destroy one horcrux, let alone four. What did he know about where Voldemort might have hidden the other two? Even less than that. And Dumbledore, the only person who might have been able to help him, was gone…
"It'll be okay, Harry. We'll find them," Hermione said gently and he wondered, again, why it was that he felt no surprise that she had guessed at, and understood, his thoughts. "We'll find them, I promise."
And looking at her, hearing the confidence in her voice, somehow, he couldn't help but believe her.
This was Hermione and he trusted her-even if he didn't understand himself how they were going to do all this.
He trusted her and she believed-somehow, for whatever reason-that they could find the remaining horcruxes and destroy them; and at least for now, that was enough…