Disclaimer: See first chapter.
A/N: Thanks for reviewing, everyone, despite all the flaws in the story. I do my best with the romance, but I haven't written H/Hr in a while and I guess you could say that I was searching for the right touch with my characters throughout the story.
Oh, and I took some liberty with the Horcrux theories, which JKR will undoubtedly prove wrong in Book Seven.
Two
Song of Hope
Dear Harry,
Everything here's the usual. Fred and George got into trouble with a customer, but strangely that only made their joke shop more popular. Mum won't admit it but she's proud. Bill and Fleur got a place in Wales and Floo home everyday for dinner. That's probably why they invited us to lunch next week. I doubt Fleur is as good a cook as Mom but I guess I'll see for sure. Anyway, Fred and George asked me to tell you that they are willing to give you a discount if ever you should visit their shop.
I looked up what you requested, and here's what I find. I'm afraid it's not a lot, but she did not have any descendants so most of her things are lost or considered government property. In any case, there is a case that sometime before the opening of you-know-where, she had a travelling artist draw a portrait. It used to be hung in her common room, as a tribute from her students, but it's not there anymore. Nobody knows when or why it disappeared, and some historians even dismissed the portrait as another myth. I don't know myself, but aside from her wand this is the only thing of hers that I found enough about. I'll look up more when I go back to you-know-where, but until then I hope you find what I tell you useful.
Tell Ron and Hermione that I send my best regards to them. And Harry, I am not a fool - I know what you're doing. I will leave the letter at this.
Love,
Ginny
They were on the train coming from Godric's Hollow as Harry read the owl aloud. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You told Ginny?"
She noted a faint blush on Harry's cheeks, and she felt an irrational twinge of jealousy.
"We had a talk before I left. She figured out much of what we're doing by herself," he said. "Besides, she did the research well. Now we know what Ravenclaw's object could be. The portrait."
"Why a portrait, of all things?" Ron said.
"In the old days, I believe people of power and standing commissioned artists to have their portraits painted," Hermione said. "It all does fit. Ravenclaw was widowed early and none of her children survived past childhood. I suppose most of her things would be donated to the school, and they probably would get lost over the centuries. A portrait has one of the better chance of enduring."
"Do you think the portrait is still hidden in the school?" Ron said. "Maybe it is in a secret chamber."
"Good point," said Hermione. "I don't think so, unfortunately. Voldemort wouldn't leave it where Dumbledore or even a student might find it."
"Here's another question I've been thinking about," Ron said, turning to Hermione. "Harry said that Dumbledore thinks Voldemort's snake is the sixth Horcrux. If Ginny's right about Ravenclaw, we identified five already, and if the seventh is Voldemort himself…"
Now Harry turned to Hermione as well, but his eyes held sadness rather than curiosity and challenge.
"It has to do with Harry's unusual eye colour," Hermione began.
"I thought his eyes," said Ron, "take after his mother's."
"Partly," said Hermione. "But also because a Horcrux, in contact with certain magic, adopts a green hue. Charms, mainly. I've noticed myself that his eyes look unnatural in Flitwick's class."
Ron looked partly convinced. "Then Nagini…"
"That was what made me sceptical about Nagini, because from what Harry describes of her, she resembles Voldemort too much. She's practically soulless herself and I doubt she's capable of harbouring a human soul."
Ron was quiet, and then he said, "Why would Voldemort want to kill Harry?"
Hermione turned to look out the window. The scenery had become familiar, as the train approached King's Cross Station. "Because," she said, studying the boys' reflections in the window, "he's killing two birds with one stone. A dead body, especially the dead body of an enemy, can still be a good Horcrux."
-
The former House of Black smelled of must, for the place had not been aired in weeks. Now that Snape had turned traitor, the Order was forced to move elsewhere, lest the Death Eaters infiltrate its headquarters.
Hermione was thankful, as she stepped inside, that at least someone had managed to remove the portrait of old Mrs. Black. Although by now she was used to hearing it, she disliked being called a Mudblood, as if her heritage made her any less worthy.
"We're looking for a large gold locket," she said. The three of them were standing in the same room where they had dined two years ago. "We found it before," she explained to Ron, who still looked uncertain. "It was the one that belonged to Regulus, but we couldn't open it."
"That one," Ron said. "I thought we tossed it back to where it was."
"That's what we did," Harry said. "But Kreacher might've hidden it or taken it, and Mundungus was selling some of Sirius' things. He might've sold the locket by accident. We don't even know if it's still here."
He looked troubled. Hermione wanted to be helpful. "From the note you showed us, Regulus was alive when he found it," she mused aloud. "Do you suppose he already, well, dismantled the Horcrux?"
Harry did not appear convinced. "It takes much magical strength to destroy a Horcrux. I had to use a basilisk's fang, and Dumbledore's hand almost withered because of the ring. Besides, the potion and the Inferi…no, Regulus was probably dying when he wrote the note."
Hermione wondered, for a moment, if Harry realized that his shoulders were shaking. She did not mention it. "All right," she said. "We can look around this room and Kreacher's secret hideout, and then we can search upstairs to see if it's hidden there."
Ron grinned. "We don't need to!" he said, brandishing his wand. "We're full-grown wizards, aren't we? Accio Regulus' locket!"
There was a whoosh, and then something was hurtling toward Ron. Before Hermione could react, Harry had shoved Ron out of the way to catch the locket in his hand.
"Harry," gasped Ron, "what was that for?"
Harry's knuckles were white. "Ron, this locket could be dangerous," he said. "You read Hermione's book. Wizards put dark spells to protect their Horcruxes! You can't just snatch it out of the air!"
"Nothing happened last time," Ron mumbled, but he was now looking at Harry's hand warily, as if it might suddenly fall off.
"Harry, you should drop it on the floor too." Hermione was nervous herself. "Let me check to see if it's still a Horcrux."
The locket fell on the floor, making a crisp clink as it hit. Its ornate cover, emblazoned with an S, blinked under the light. Ron regarded it with interest while Hermione browsed through her book. There was no one spell that identified Horcruxes; Horcruxes reacted only to magic of purity. Charms, mainly.
Hermione chose the Cheering Charm.
"Stand back," she said. She murmured the spell and a hue spread over the locket. It shimmered before turning green. "Harry's right. It's still a Horcrux. Let me find a spell here that can -"
"Not here," Harry interrupted her. He snatched up the locket and jammed it in the pocket of his trousers, despite Ron's cry of alarm. "Don't you hear it? Someone else is coming. We must go."
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, but did not argue.
"Good thing I brought some Floo powder," said Ron. "Come on, I bet the fireplace still works."
The fire was blazing when Hermione heard faint footsteps at the front door. "I'll Apparate," she said, "to the Leaky Cauldron. Meet you both there."
"All right," Harry said, already shoving Ron inside the green fire.
Just as Hermione felt herself dissemble from the room, she heard a distant bang by the front door. Then the room disappeared, and she was standing in the inn, looking on as a frightened Ron tumbled out of the fireplace.
-
Harry's shirt was slightly singed, but he did not offer any information until he was in Hermione's room at the Leaky Cauldron, the three sitting around the locket.
"What happened?" Ron demanded.
"There were two Death Eaters, and thankfully they didn't have the best aim with Stunners," he said. "I would've been dead meat without your Floo powder.."
Ron grinned, but turned serious. "We weren't discreet enough at Godric's Hollow," he said. "They probably overheard and tracked us all the way here. They might still be tracking us."
"They were. Someone cast a Tracking Spell on my cloak. The good news is, I doubt they can follow us here," Hermione said. "There are too many people around. Besides, I found a spell that's strong enough to destroy the Horcrux and..."
"I will do it," Harry said immediately.
Ron made a move as if to disagree, but Harry held up a hand. "I survived more curses than either of you," he said, and Hermione understood, as did Ron, that he was not saying it to be arrogant.
Because the spell could emit fumes dangerous to onlookers, Hermione and Ron lingered outside the room while Harry worked inside. Ron looked at Hermione, and then looked away.
Hermione knew what he was thinking. Soon, they would perform a similar spell on Harry, and the green smoke sizzling from inside was only an indication of how much it would hurt. Ron still held hope that there might be another way. If there was, Hermione wanted to yell, wouldn't she have mentioned it?
Harry emerged, intact and expressionless. "I think it's done," he said. "You might want to check."
Hermione cast the charm she'd used at Grimmauld Place. This time, the hue stayed transparent, hanging over the now tarnished locket like a mist.
She nodded at Ron and Harry. "Voldemort's soul's gone."
"What do you reckon we should do after this?" said Ron.
"We need to track down Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's portrait," Harry said as he pocketed the locket. "Dumbledore said that the places where Voldemort hides the Horcruxes must be meaningful for him. Right now I can think of Hogwarts, the House of Gaunt, Little Hangleton, and even his old orphanage."
"Not the House of Gaunt," said Ron, "or the Ministry would've confiscated it by now. Personally, I think he might hide it in one of his followers' homes."
"Good idea! Like the Malfoys, for example," Harry said, face lighting up. "Remember? Your father found their secret trapdoor where they hid all the Dark artifacts."
"Manors of old families usually have that," Ron explained. "They were built to ward off intruders, mainly. Even we used to have secret closets before Mum got fed up with us banging around in them."
"It will have to be one of the followers from the First War." Hermione felt a sense of alarm. At the height of Voldemort's power, there must've been at least five prominent families under his wing. "I could use Locator Spells that tune to the presence of certain magic," she said. "It would narrow down the places we need to check out, but I would have to revisit Flourish and Blotts."
Ron stretched. "We'll come with you this time. Now that's settled, after all this excitement I'm a bit hungry. I'll go down and get some lunch for us all. You coming, Harry?"
"In a moment." When Ron's footsteps had faded, Harry turned to Hermione. "When will you make a double Horcrux of me?"
Hermione considered. "You're not ready yet. Remember, you can only break off a piece of your soul with magic and ill will." She stared at Harry in the eye. "You have enough magic, but you haven't learned to use the Killing Curse yet. You will need to learn to use it."
In her mind, an image of a Harry with chalk white face and red eyes sprang up. She dreaded his reaction.
He merely nodded. "I only have to use it twice." Harry sounded as if he didn't believe what he was saying.
"But you may need to…practice."
"Of course. It takes hatred to work the Unforgivables." Harry's mouth twisted. "I was supposed to win this war with love."
He looked so resigned, so sad. Hermione felt her lips tremble. She walked over and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She could feel his rapid heartbeat against her chest. She remembered that Harry never understood how love was supposed to help win the war, help defeat Voldemort. Once, Ron had suggested that the locked room in the Department of Mysteries was a study of love.
Harry had not been totally convinced. "Love isn't supposed to be kept behind doors." He always had a unique view of love. And now…
"Everything will be fine," she promised. "I will make everything fine."
Harry's arms stayed at his sides, but he laid his head in the hollow of her shoulder, cheek pressed against her neck. Goosebumps ran along Hermione's arm; she gathered him closer.
He was sweaty and his clothes were torn, and yet he smelled familiar, a faint scent of flowers.
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