I Would Rather Die

gti88

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Suspense
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 11/07/2007
Last Updated: 06/10/2007
Status: paused

One of my earlier fics...Harry's confidence in Voldemort's defeat is shaken...will he regain it, in the face of a strengthening evil?

Chapters

1. Evil and Uncertainty

2. Lost

3. The Unexpected

4. To End It All

5. A Vigorous Deception

1. Evil and Uncertainty

A fic in response to this challenge

http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=23507

Disclaimer…All characters belong to JK, but the plot is mine….

Other than that…let's begin

Chapter I: Evil and Uncertainty

“Have the object shipped to the manor in two days time. Make haste, the route is not a safe one.”

Lucius bowed deeply. “Right away, my lord,” and he left the room.

The Dark Lord was preparing for a special mission. One, which was sure to succeed, and would officially cement his position of power. Yes, overthrowing the Ministry of Magic was something he had planned on doing for a long time. The hour was approaching.

**

The Burrow was a hive of activity as usual. Only, the cheeriness had left, and was replaced by the heated debates of the Order of the Phoenix, which had assembled for an urgent meeting, in light of Albus Dumbledore's death.

“I second Arthur's nomination,” growled Moody.

“Alastor, I'm not so sure. We need a spy at the Ministry, and Arthur is quite busy with his department these days, “ argued Molly Weasley. “I think Remus would be a better choice, “ and she looked expectantly at the werewolf.

“Molly, really, I…” he stuttered, but did not finish.

“All in favour?” shouted Tonks over the table.

The shouts and debates continued, Tonks was impatiently tapping her fingers on the table, and eventually, at the sight of her furious face, the Order seemed to be quieting down.

“Nymphadora, what were you shouting about?” Kingsley's exasperated voice came.

“I wanted to back Remus as the new leader of the Order. I was asking if we all agreed on that, but seeing as we're wasteing valuable time arguing pointlessly...”

That simple sentence had decided it. Consensus was quickly reached, and the former professor was officially bestowed with the honor.

**

Harry was seething. The funeral had concluded a week ago, but the pain of the loss still ate away at his insides. He was also angry, because Dumbledore died so unexpectedly, and all for a fake Horcux. He should've foreseen it, considered the possibility that someone else may have gained the real Horcrux first. But no, there was no way that thought could've occurred to Dumbledore, or him. They were much too focused on Slytherin's locket. Now, someone, R.A.B., had taken possession of it, and it was quite possible that person was dead, and the locket hidden somewhere else. He didn't know what to do without his late mentor.

He heard a door open, and someone walked up behind him.

“Harry?”

Turning around, Remus came into view. Harry didn't say anything, but simply looked at him.

“Can you come inside? We need to talk to you about something.”

He raised himself to his feet, and mutely followed Remus to the Burrow's kitchen. Whatever they had to tell him, he didn't think it would be of any importance.

How very wrong he was.

“Harry, “ Arthur's voice drifted over the table, but Harry barely paid attention. “We've decided that you, Ron and Hermione can be inducted in the Order.”

What was the difference, he thought, Dumbledore is dead…

But on the other hand, it could be somewhere to start from. He would carry on what Dumbledore started. Fight for good. For the Light, and destroy Voldemort, if he could manage it.

“Yeah, OK,” came his deadpan reply.

“You don't need to tell us what Dumbledore entrusted you to do. We only want you to tell us where you'll be going, because we need to make sure that you're safe.”

“Thanks Mr. Weasley, I will.”

Harry felt slightly better. With the support of the people that cared for him, the fight was possible. He might not win, but he was not going to stand aside and watch his nemesis become victorious either.

**

Darkness had fallen. A wagon was slowly making its way through the forest, its mechanisms silenced to avoid detection, and carrying a precious load the Dark Lord so desperately required. Two shadows snaked across the top of the hill, adjacent to the road, trailing the wagon noiselessly. The Death Eaters below had not noticed their presence.

The shadows stopped.

“It's going to become more dangerous from here on. Go back to your mother, take her to the house, and wait for me there,” one told the other.

“But…”

“We don't have time, so don't argue with me. Go!”

A faint popping sound left only one of them behind. He shrunk to the ground, as a masked face turned in his direction.

“Must've been a squirrel,” was the short explanation, and the person atop the hill breathed a sigh of short relief, as the journey continued.

**

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Burrow's backyard, taking in the morning sunshine.

“We're in the Order, finally.”

The fact was the reason Ron had been smiling all morning. Not so Harry and Hermione, though. Harry had gone back to his depressed self, and Hermione was giving him quizzical looks, trying to figure what was wrong with him.

She knew Harry was upset over Dumbledore's death and the task he inherited from the late headmaster. He was lost, and she could relate to him - her brain, for the first time in recorded history, had failed to provide an idea of where to begin with the Horcruxes.

“Come on, guys, cheer up,” Ron attempted to lighten the atmosphere. “We've been trying to get in the Order for two years. Why aren't you excited?”

“Ron,” started Hermione snappishly, “we have four Horcruxes to destroy, face down Voldemort, and somehow, somehow, survive through all of this. I don't see a reason why we should be happy.”

“I don't know what your problem is! We have to survive, there's no question about that. But you…”

Harry's patience quickly dried up.

“Guys, please, don't start fighting again. Last year we spent enough time apart. We need to stand together and understand each other, if we are indeed going to live through this!”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Hermione pleaded. “I'm just worried, that's all…I can't stand the thought of losing either one of you.”

Harry stood up, walked over to Hermione, and embraced her tightly.

“Neither of us is going anywhere, “ he spoke in her ear, “Whatever happens, Ron and I will always be here for you. Never forget that.”

Hermione hugged him back, and a feeling of safety and calm enveloped her. She missed that feeling all last year, and was all too happy to have it back again.

A sudden commotion in the Weasley home caused them to come apart. Ron, who had been dozing off, jerked awake.

“Get off me! What's going on?” he cried, but quickly regained himself, “Is everything OK?”

Mrs. Weasley ran out of the house and shouted for them to hurry back inside the house.

“Let's go, let's go, come on, we have to Floo to Hogwarts,” she hurried them through the door into the kitchen.

“Mum, what's going on?” Ginny had come down the stairs to see the source of the commotion for herself.

“Ginny, come on, quickly, through the fireplace!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione landed in Dumbledore's office. Harry raised himself to his feet, and instinctively looked towards the desk. Only, now, it was Professor McGonagall sitting behind it.

He felt a pang of sadness. Directing his eyes upwards, he found the portrait of Professor Dumbledore, slumbering in its frame.

“Mr. Potter,” the new headmistress brought him back down to earth. “I think there's something you should see.”

Her gaze was hard and fearful, as she handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet. Ron and Hermione joined him, looking down at the glaring headline on the front page.

Ministry Attacked!

A/N First chapter of this fic is done…not as great as I'd like it to be, but nevertheless, please review

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2. Lost

Disclaimer: All characters are JK's, plot is mine

Here's the second chapter, and it'll hopefully be better than the first. Without further ado…on with the story.

Chapter II: Lost

Voldemort was satisfied. More so than he had been in a very long time. A milestone, as large as the Ministry falling, was a rarity these days. In the sea of incompetence he often found himself in, it felt good to have something turn out as it was supposed to for once.

The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgouer, had fought the oncoming wave of Death Eaters, holding his own very well from his years as an Auror. In the end, however, when the tide could not be reversed, he managed to disapparate away to an undisclosed location, along with some important Ministry officials, among which was the head of the Auror Department.

The Prophet article continued its narrative, but Harry stopped paying attention. He was spiraling deeper and deeper into despair. For many a wizard folk, he remained a sole anchor of hope. To others, all was completely and utterly lost with the Ministry's demise.

However, Harry's situation was burdened further. What would be next? Hogesmeade? Hogwarts? Voldemort did have an affinity with the school after all…

“Harry? Harry, are you listening to me?”

He snapped out of his reverie. Apparently, Hermione had been talking, and he felt slightly embarrassed for being out in his own mind and not listening to the conversation taking place between the remaining occupants of the office.

“Sorry…what were you saying?”

She gave him a glare. “We have to leave Hogwarts. There's no guarantee if Voldemort will attack the school next.”

“Miss Granger is right, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall heavily. “I expect the school will not be opening this autumn. The governors will announce their decision in a few hours,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Harry looked at his former Transfiguration professor's face. Its usual sternness had slightly dissolved. There was fear, etched on the lines of her weathered features, and a tear seemed to form in her right eye.

“Never has Hogwarts closed before,” she whispered. “How can such evil be possible?”

Harry wished he had an answer. Beside him, Hermione was speechless as well.

A whooshing sound in the fireplace told them someone else had arrived in the office. Arthur Weasley appeared, and he walked over to the trio.

“It has started. You-Know-Who's forces have attacked Hogesmeade, and they're advancing on the school. We have to go. Now.”

Grim faced and sullen, Mr. Weasley stood by the grate of the fireplace, beckoning the headmistress and the three students through their last safe passageway.

Somewhere in the castle, a blast was heard, and a shout, as Argus Filch was heard attempting to apprehend some perpetrator. Then all was silent again.

With all haste, the three best friends made for the fire.

“Come on, quickly. Hurry!” Running footfalls sounded in the corridor outside.

Harry, Ron and Hermione dove in the flames. They saw McGonagall running towards them, and Mr. Weasley following close behind.

The door was ripped from its hinges, and a masked servant of Voldemort's ran in.

Bellatrix Lestrange cursed soundly, as she saw the flames turn green and extinguish right afterward. Her quarry had escaped, but that would be soon rectified, she thought, and a sadistic smile lit up her gaunt face.

Over at Grimmauld Place, work was hasty in severing all Floo connections to the house. The Fidelius charm had by some means survived intact, and that provided supplementary security for the Order. Nobody was capable of explaining the reason the house was still untraceable, but as it happened, the need to recuperate and analyze the events of the last day was greater.

Voldemort had won. Mass killings and purges were sure to begin soon. Attacks on wizards without pureblood origin, and Muggles, were also going to increase. Harry felt sick at the thought of these monstrosities taking place. He had to figure something out, and quickly, before Voldemort's hold on power became absolute.

Some hours later, he sat in his room, thinking. The sun had started setting outside, and the red, gold and orange glows made it beautiful to look at. Like something good was leaving, dying, in order to be replaced by eternal darkness. Harry felt worse still.

Suddenly, a knock came on the door.

“Harry, can I come in?”

He stood up, and opened the door. Remus walked in. They looked at each other, unable to articulate anything, until Harry asked the question ebbing at him for the last few hours.

“Professor, what are we supposed to do now?”

“That's what I wanted to discuss with you, Harry, but not today. You need rest. I just came by to give you this,” and he held out an intricately carved golden medallion out on his palm.

The simple beauty of the medallion awed Harry. He looked up at Remus for explanation.

“It was your mother's, Harry. See?” and he showed two sets of initials carved on the back: JP & LE

“James gave it to Lily on the day we graduated from Hogwarts.”

Remus' face had taken on a dream-like quality, as he was lost in the memory. It showed how much he still missed his friends.

“Thank you, Remus…” was all Harry could say. This medallion brought him closer to his parents. That was something he greatly cherished, but he could never quite show it properly. Unfortunately, the Dursleys had made him so.

“Alright then, Harry. I have to leave; the Order is about to have a meeting. You don't have to come if you don't want to.”

“No, I'll come,” said Harry, after a second's indecision

Together, they downstairs to the sizable sitting room, where the Order, in its entirety, was assembled around an enlarged table. The mood of the meeting complemented the glum nature of the ancestral Black home. Nobody moved or spoke much, waiting for Remus to take the lead. Ron and Hermione were sitting near the fireplace, and they beckoned for Harry to join them in a seat they had saved for him. Listlessly, Harry walked over, and sat down.

“Well then, now that we're all here,” began Remus, “I think we should figure out where we stand. Hogwarts and the Ministry have been wiped out, and that leaves us with very few options. We could be next on the Dark Lord's list for all I know. I propose we do all we can to make his reign as difficult as possible, until Harry has a chance to defeat him, and restore the rule of the Light.” He spoke the last words were spoken on a high note, sending Harry an approving look.

Confidence was lacking all around.. Most of the members had lost the will to fight. Hopelessly outnumbered, what could they possibly do? Fight for what was right? They were going to die anyway; the only question was, when?

A chair moved. Heads turned, as Ron Weasley stood up. He had a scowl on his face, and it succeeded in making some people in the room uneasy.

“What is this? Why are we giving up so easy? If we're going to die, then we'll do it opposing You-Know-Who. I, for one, would rather die, than have him rule over me. But I don't want to stand on the sidelines, watching him destroy the things in this world that I, we, care about! Family, friends, hell, even Quidditch - I don't want to see that go.”

Breathing heavily, he sat down, glaring at the people around him. At least, last year had done something good for Ron - he had grown up, however slightly.

“The young Weasley is right,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said deeply and thoughtfully. “We have to find out how You-Know-Who managed to succeed so quickly,” he continued slowly.

“Then it's settled. That'll be out next mission,” Remus was quick to seize the moment. “Arthur, Tonks, try and locate any Ministry employees that were witness to the attack. Ask them what they saw.”

“Aye, Remus, consider it done,” Arthur responded, a small smile coming across his otherwise sullen face. It was a tiny ray of hope.

Harry, in the meanwhile, had a mission of his own to attend to with Ron and Hermione. They had to start looking for Voldemort's horcruxes, and quickly.

A/N: Next chapter will be up soon, but probably not tomorrow. I have to work, and it will be more difficult to write. Leave a review on your way out though.

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3. The Unexpected

OK, this is the climax of this fic…as outlined in the challenge, it must include a confrontation between Harry and ol' Voldie, that resembles the one between Spiderman and the Green Goblin in the first movie of the trilogy…”You're an amazing creature Spiderman. You and I are not so different…” “You're a murderer…”

Sound familiar?

Well…on with the story!

Disclaimer: All JK's, but the plot…and that thing in the end is from the script of the Spiderman 1 movie…

Chapter III: The Unexpected

Hermione had been sitting in the Black family library all morning, searching for any snippet of information, regarding Horcruxes. She had the faintest idea of what they were, from what Harry had said, but her inquisitive mind required more answers.

She flipped another page of an old book, Medieval Dark Objects, and an interesting piece of information caught her gaze. A picture of a locket, that looked vaguely familiar, was at the top of the page. A caption was included, “The last known possessor of Slytherin's locket is a woman, by the name of Hepzibah Smith, who lived in London, England. She passed away nearly thirty years ago, and with her death, the locket disappeared as well.”

Where had Hermione seen that locket before? She decided to talk to Harry about it, and

immediately went downstairs to locate her quarry.

She found him alone in the kitchen, eating a piece of treacle tart absentmindedly, and clearly lost in thought.

“Harry?”

He jumped at the sound of her voice. “Hermione? Is everything alright?”

“Have you had nightmares again?” she asked sternly.

“No, I haven't.”

Yet, her disproving gaze intensified. Harry felt as if she could see inside him.

“Harry?”

He sighed in response.

“You know me too well, Hermione. That's why I want you to stay away. I'm afraid this nightmare may be a vision. Every night, I have to contend with seeing you and Ron, “he looked down and gulped, “die.”

Harry hadn't before appreciated how beautiful the fireplace looked. He was sure Hermione was going to start lecturing him on how impossible his assumptions were. But instead, he suddenly felt a pair of arms encircle him from the back.

“I know, Harry, I know,” a soft voice spoke in his ear. He shivered.

“I don't want to lose you, Hermione. I…I don't know what I'd do without you. You…” a tear slipped down his cheek - the first that had done so, in a very long time. “What if those visions are true? What then?”

“I can't answer that, Harry. I don't even know if we are going to live. But what I do know is that we have to remain strong. Just remember, wherever you go, I'll follow you.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a while. How long, neither knew, but a creak of the staircase brought them back to reality. Ron had finally risen out of bed, and half-awake, he trudged into the kitchen.

“What's for breakfast?” he asked, eyeing the empty stove.

“There's some left over treacle tart on the counter, mate. Help yourself.”

Ron did not need a second invitation. A generous helping was sitting on a plate in front of him within seconds.

“Suwhtwrudinghr?” he asked through a mouthful

“So what were we doing here?” translated Harry. He wondered a bit himself.

“I was just telling Harry about a possible Horcrux that's described in this book I found upstairs,” said Hermione, and quite believingly.

“Really? What is it?” Ron seemed a bit more awake now.

“There was this woman, Hepzibah Smith, and she was a collector of magical artifacts when she was alive,” Hermione began her narrative.

A light seemed to have been switched in Harry's brain. He had forgotten all about that memory!

“And she owned a locket,” he interrupted Hermione. “Riddle took it when she died!”

“How do you know that, Harry?” Hermione inquired suspiciously. “It took me all morning to even find out about her!”

“It was a memory Dumbledore showed me last year,” Harry said, a mournful note in his voice. “He took it from her house elf, and it was Slytherin's locket. He thought it might be one of the Horcruxes. He didn't know where it was though.”

“Didn't we find a locket that looks like that when we were cleaning out this place two years ago?” Ron's face was twisted in concentration, as it was usually when he recalled an old memory.

“What did you say, Ron?” Hermione asked, as if she was hit by a sudden flashback.

“I said, we found a locket that looked like that two years ago. Didn't we?”

Stillness came over the trio, as comprehension slowly set in. A few minutes later, Hermione found her voice first.

“Ron!” she exclaimed, “You're a genius!”

Further explanations were not needed. The three of them split up in three different ways, and began combing the house, from its attic, to its basement, in search for the elusive ancient jewel of Salazar Slytherin.

As the day wore on, the trio had become progressively more discouraged. By the time they had finished looking through every web-covered corner of the mansion, night had fallen entirely. Dusty, exhausted and disgruntled, they had reached a dead end. The locket was nowhere to be found.

Gathered by the fire in the living room, Harry, Ron and Hermione stared listlessly in the flames.

“Where could it possibly be?” Ron asked the room at large.

“ I dunno. Maybe Mundungus sold it, or Kreacher probably hid it really well,” Harry theorized.

Hermione was at a loss to say anything. She did not have the slightest idea of the locket's whereabouts either.

With that, the three of them trudged back up the stairs to their respective rooms, and fell asleep nearly at once.

The following morning found our heroes still deeply asleep. Yesterday's effort on the Horcrux had wrung them out entirely. The sun's rays, however, were successful in causing Hermione to be the first to open her eyes - that, and the knock on the door, which woke her up entirely.

She regrettably left the warmth of the bed, and descended the stairs to the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. On the other side of the curtain, she saw the familiar silhouette of Professor McGonagall, but still, she had to be sure.

“Who is it?”

“Miss Granger, I'm Professor McGonagall.”

“What was the assignment I had trouble mastering last year?”

“I believe it was the Aguamenti spell, Miss Granger.”

The door opened, and the Headmistress walked inside. She looked a little worse for wear, with her robes disheveled and appearing to be quite anxious.

“Miss Granger, please gather Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter at once, and then join me in the sitting room. I have information of the utmost importance to share with you.”

Hermione bolted back upstairs, and burst into Ron's room. He didn't move, but simply rolled under the covers, and faced the wall. Hermione shook him by the shoulders so hard, that he ended up falling on the floor.

“What in the bloody hell was that for?” he snapped at her when the initial shock had worn off.

“McGonagall is here. She has something to tell us,” Hermione answered automatically, and rushed off to Harry's room.

A few minutes later, half-awake and disheveled, Harry and Ron marched in line behind Hermione into the sitting room, and Ron was grumbling about something under his breath. But what that was, nobody found out, as they took a seat on the couch, and the Headmistress turned to them.

“Now, what I am about to tell you, has to do with the notes Albus left after his death. Or rather, something that is within them. This information is very sensitive, and it is crucial that you must not tell a soul.”

Assent was quickly reached, and Professor McGonagall continued.

“It was reading one of Albus' notebooks yesterday. In it, he described how he performed the Fidelius Charm for Grimmauld Place. The reason it still holds, even after his passing, is because he was not the Secret Keeper. Someone, with the initials R.A.B. is, according to Albus, and if the charm is intact, then that person is still alive somewhere.”

A shocked silence enveloped the room. Harry's mind quickly recalled the note he had recovered from the fake locket that fateful night. Apparently, it was written before Dumbledore approached the mysterious persona with the request to be Secret Keeper. If he was, then he had to be hidden somewhere. But where, he wondered. There was absolutely no hint as to where to start the search.

“Professor, did he write anything else about this R.A.B. person?” Harry asked.

“No, Harry, I'm afraid not. However, I have hypothesized, that it may be a member of the Black family. Long ago, I taught a student by the name of Regulus Black, though I do not recall his middle name. He was in Slytherin, but was on quite good terms with Albus.”

“Was he friends with my father?”

“No, Harry, they weren't. The animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin existed back then as well, just as it does today…or did, rather,” she finished sadly.

“What happened to him?” Ron asked.

“Well, as far as I remember, he joined the Death Eaters after graduation. Word has it that his mother forced him to do it. But since then, nothing has been heard of him. It is quite possible that he is dead now.”

Harry had a wild idea. What if R.A.B. was indeed Regulus? The note seemed believable enough. But how did he find out if it was true?

The ring of a second visitor of the day suddenly permeated the pregnant atmosphere of tension, and Harry's internal musings. He walked over to the front door, and peeked through the crack between the curtain and the frame of the door. He barely managed to conceal a shout of surprise. Perhaps he was finally going insane, but Sirius Black was outside the front door. He doubled back to the sitting room.

“Siri…Sirius is…is right outside,” he gasped, his eyes the size of saucers.

Professor McGonagall rushed to the front door.

“Who are you?” she called out fiercely.

“Regulus Alphard Black,” came the reply.

It was certainly not what she expected.

“But you're dead! You have to be a Death Eater!”

Minerva McGonagall felt fear. An emotion she had nearly forgotten. How was it possible they could find Grimmauld Place? Maybe the charm was broken!

“If I was a Death Eater, how would I know where to find this house? I'm the bloody secret keeper after all,” the person, named Regulus, growled from the other side.

The confusion was complete. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been standing in the doorway of the sitting room, observing the whole exchange, as the entrance opened to reveal a person, who resembled Sirius in many ways, but seemed taller and thinner than his late brother.

He walked in. The dim light fell on his face, and it was etched with the effects of the tribulation and stress he must have been through over the years. He had been handsome once, but those days were long gone. His robes were patched, dirty and gray. A days old beard covered his face, and there was a smell of tobacco about him.

“Harry Potter,” he simply said, squinting at the hero of the story. “It was seventeen years ago when I saw you last.”

Harry could not utter a response.

“Mr. Black,” Hermione squeaked. “Are you R.A.B.?”

Theie guest gave a scoff, and snapped, “Well, who else could it be? Binns? I had that thing, and I hid it here about fifteen years ago. It's a miracle I survived this long.”

“Was it Slytherin's locket?” Harry asked softly.

“Aye, it was.”

“Well, it's not here anymore,” Ron said darkly.

“What do you mean it's not here? It's upstairs, in that cabinet by the tapestry.”

“We cleaned it out two years ago,” Hermione explained. “Kreacher took the locket, and after that, we couldn't find it.”

“That bugger! He worshipped my mother, and she was a nasty person. I don't know how many times Kreacher walked by me, always muttering to himself about wanting me dead,” Regulus reminisced with disgust.

“Regulus, how did you know to come here, now, of all times?” Hermione asked, her voice a tad more confident.

The former Death Eater sighed deeply.

“Professor McGonagall told you about me. Once upon a time, Dumbledore asked me to be the secret keeper on this house, when he cast the Fidelius Charm, and then urged me to go into hiding. I took a great risk, because I was also a Death Eater, running away from Voldemort.”

“There was a charm on that notebook of Dumbledore's. If someone in the Order read the information, my wand would signal me, and I knew Albus was dead, which meant I had to arrive back as soon as I could. My purpose now is to stay hidden, and assist as much as I can in the…task that Dumbledore assigned.”

Harry was still skeptical.

“How do we know we can trust you,” he said testily.

“Harry, how do you think I found this house? I'm the secret keeper. I would die, before I reveal the address to anyone else. And if I died, the Fidelius Charm would disappear as well,” Regulus explained patiently. “It is still active. Therefore I'm not lying.”

Later that afternoon, after a lengthy discussion concerning the possible whereabouts of Slytherin's locket, it was agreed that Burke's shop in Knockturn Alley would be a good place to start the search. Harry and Regulus would be the only two to attempt the recovery of the Horcrux, while Ron and Hermione remained behind to research other possible leads, and Professor McGonagall fulfilled an information-gathering assignment from the Order.

By means of a Muggle taxicab, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron pub. Harry paid the driver, and then the duo entered Diagon Alley through the pub. Desolate and empty were the ideal words to describe the current condition of the formerly vibrant shopping alley. Windows were boarded; yellowed posters of escaped Death Eaters hung on the planks, and a few tired silhouettes could be seen moving, as if gliding, up and down the street.

Knockturn Alley seemed darker and more sinister, despite the larger crowds there. People were eyeing Harry strangely, then bringing their eyes back to the ground again and continuing on walking hastily. It was unnerving, with the chance of another attack or disappearance so real.

Eventually, Harry and Regulus reached Burke's store. Curtains hung over the large front window, and a sign that indicated the store was closed, hung on the door. Despite this, Regulus rapped hard on the door.

“Burke, open up!” he shouted.

No reply came.

“Alright, I'm gonna blast it open then! Three, two…”

The lock clicked. A man's angry face looked through the crack in the door.

“What do you want?” he hissed. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“Where's Slytherin's locket?” Harry snapped quietly. “Have you sold it to anyone?”

“What is it to you? Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. It's none of your business!”

Harry had had enough. He pushed the door open and thundered inside the confined store. He grabbed Burke by the neck, and pushed him up against one of the cupboards. His wand was pointed at the man's forehead.

“What you're concealing is very dangerous. Unless you want to die, and not by my hand, you'll tell me where that locket is,” Harry spoke in a deadly whisper.

“Alright, alright…I didn't sell it. I hid it in the cupboard behind me! It's under a couple of cloaks on the top shelf.” Burke said all this very fast.

“Regulus, please keep an eye on him.”

Harry threw the owner on the ground. Burke whimpered, but stayed silent and could only watch, as Regulus' wand was pointed at him.

Harry opened the double doors, and looked up. True enough, there were cloaks on the top shelf. However, he couldn't quite see, and decided to feel around for the jewel. Folds of fabric met his hand, as he coursed through, but suddenly, his fingers felt cold metal. With a feeling of triumph, he grasped it.

Unexpectedly, he felt a pull behind his navel, and in a whirl of colour, his feet left the ground, and he was spinning, spinning…

How could the locket be a portkey? He tried to let go of it, but his fingers refused to obey him. Moments later, he landed hard on a stone floor. Where was he?

He shook his head to clear it. In the far end of the room, he saw a tall, skeletally thin, cloaked figure. The skin on the back of his head was pasty white. Thin, clawed hands were clenched in fists, as it hissed.

“Punish Avery first, and then kill him. Disobedience must be punished, and make an example of him.”

It didn't take Harry long to figure out who was standing in front of him. He made to duck behind one of the huge vases on his right, but…

“Good evening, Harry Potter. How fortunate of you to come by. I see you found something of mine that you brought as well.”

Voldemort's red slit eyes directed their sharp gaze at Harry, who felt a painful twinge in his scar at the eye contact.

“Tell me, Harry, why are you here today? I know what you want to do, but it won't happen. You will die, before you succeed.”

“No, Tom, your reckoning will come soon,” Harry shot at his adversary. “You'll go to fuckin' Hell, and if be so, you're going there with me!”

Voldemort was unaffected by those threats.

“You're an amazing wizard, Harry Potter. You and I are not so different,“ spoke the Dark Lord, slowly and icily, looking down at Nagini, his snake, which had coiled itself at Voldemort's feet.

”I'm not like you! You're a murderer!” Harry hissed back, his words dripping with malice.

Voldemort turned his ghostly pale face back towards Harry.

”Well, to each his own. I chose my path, you chose the way of the hero. And they found you amusing for a while, the people of this wizarding world. But the one thing they love more than a hero is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying. In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they will hate you. Why bother?”

”Because it's right,“ growled Harry, fighting to stay conscious. The pain in his head was becoming more intense by the second.

”Here's the real truth, Harry Potter. There are millions of wizards in Britain. And those teeming masses exist for the sole purpose of lifting the few exceptional wizards onto their shoulders. You and me - we're exceptional.”

”I could squash you like a bug right now, but I'm offering you a chance. Join me! Imagine what we could accomplish together...what we could create. Or we could destroy! Cause the deaths of countless innocents in selfish battle again and again and again until we're both dead! Is that what you want? Think about it, hero!”

Harry gave a shout, as his scar pulsed with a blinding pain. His last conscious thought was a question - is it worth it?

A/N There's chapter three…it was a lot more difficult to write, but it's twice as long, and I hope you like it. A few reviews would certainly encourage me to continue, so please feel free to write a couple of lines :) As for the next chapter…more about Regulus is coming up, and for Harry - has ol' Voldie convinced him? Stick around to find out…

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4. To End It All

Well, here it is...the last, and longest chapter of this story...Enjoy!!

Disclaimer: All belongs to JK, but the plot...

Chapter IV: To End It All…

Harry could feel himself awakening. Where was he? Opening his eyes, he winced as the light initially blinded him. Then his surrounding slowly began to come into focus. With a jolt of surprise, he found himself laying on the bed in his room at Grimmauld Place. Outside the window, the sun was shining, its rays also bathing the room in a golden glow. Clearly, it was sometime in the morning.

The creaking floorboards in the corridor told Harry someone was coming. The steps were slow and heavy, and they stopped outside his door. Quietly, the doorknob turned, and his visitor tiptoed inside.

“Hermione?” Harry said, but his throat was dry and the name, and it came out sounding raspy.

“Shhh,” she whispered, as she laid the food-laden tray on his bedside cabinet. “You need your rest, Harry. Eat this and I'll come back in a half hour to pick up the tray.”

“Hermione, wait,” Harry pleaded, hoping he could ask Hermione why he wasn't dead, at complete odds to his last memory.

She turned around, and Harry took in her appearance. Her eyes were puffy, from crying, and the sparkle that was usually present in them had disappeared. She seemed exhausted, like she had given up, or was indifferent as to what happened next…

“What happened?”

He knew he should have been dead by now. Nobody who opposed Voldemort lived to tell the tale of his or her encounter with him.

“We barely escaped, damn it,” Hermione's voice nearly broke, but her tone retained its sharpness. “You should not have gone out with Regulus in the first place, Harry.”

Harry knew how much she worried about him, but the feeling was mutual. But nevertheless, there was no other way. Death was a mate alongside their lives these days. It could take one, or all of them, at any time. The more Harry thought about it, the more enticing the though became…he could end it all, and finally be happy…rejoin his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore…

He found Hermione had left at some point during his mental meanderings. Resigned, Harry felt sleep attempting to claim him again. He was about to drift off, not having touched even the piece of toast on the plate by his bedside, when a knock came on the door.

“Come in,” he called out

Two people entered his room - Regulus and Remus. Sullen and grim-faced, they looked at Harry. He dreaded what might come next.

“I'm glad you finally awoke, Harry,” Regulus said.

“Why? How long have I been out?”

“Five days,” Remus answered after some hesitation. “We thought you might not make it.”

Great, Harry thought, if he barely survived being in the same room with Voldemort, then what chance did he have in a duel with him?

“So what happened after I lost consciousness?” Harry asked, not a little impatiently.

“I grabbed a hold of your cloak, Harry, just as that blasted locket was transporting you to Voldemort. Only, I landed in the corner behind some crates, while you were in plain sight of him. I couldn't risk saving both of us quite yet, but I had a plan. It was obvious Voldemort didn't intend to kill you then. After you collapsed, I sent a non-verbal blastoing curse at the door to distract him. Then I ran across the room, took you by the arm, and apparated outside of Grimmauld. Just in time too, and it was lucky they hadn't put wards up…”

Harry felt terrible. Again, it was his fault that Regulus had almost lost his life. Oh, if only he could end it all right now…he had never felt lower in his life.

“It's not your fault, Harry. We're at war,” Remus said, as if he had read Harry's mind. “Risk and death walk hand in hand now, and there is nothing we can do about it, but be careful in what we do.”

“What does it matter, Remus,” Harry said in defeat, “the Ministry's gone, Hogwarts is no longer around, people are succumbing to the Dark everywhere, and the Light is slowly diminishing, both in numbers and in hope. Tell me, what can we possibly do? We're going to die in the end as it is…”

“We might, but not like this. We'll die fighting, Harry, remember that. We've already said it, but it must also be our motivation,” Regulus patiently explained, even if there was a note of sharpness in his voice.

Exhaustion took over Harry's senses. The other two occupants of the room became blurrier, until he felt himself fall into the black void that was sleep, once again.

The next morning, cloudy and dreary, found Harry sitting in the kitchen, reading a week old copy of the Daily Prophet, the latest that there was, and all the while drinking a warm cup of tea.

Mrs. Weasley's walked briskly into the kitchen, clearly anxious to begin cooking breakfast. She was surprised to see Harry already there.

“Harry, dear, shouldn't you be asleep? You look awfully pale. Go back to bed, and I'll whip you up something. I'm sure Ginny can -“

“Mrs. Weasley, don't worry about me, I'm fine,” Harry cut her off politely. “I need to get out of the bed sometimes, you know,” he chuckled blandly.

“Are you sure then, Harry? If you need anything, you just tell me, alright?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure, and you know I'll always come to you for help,” Harry said, before going back to the article he was reading.

A tired and sleepy Ginny ambled into the kitchen, closely followed by an anxious Hermione, and a bleary Ron brought up the rear.

“Mum, is there any hot coffee?” Ginny asked.

“It's on the stove,” Harry answered instead, not looking up from the paper. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, preparing a sizable breakfast of fried eggs for the vastly increased population of Grimmauld Place.

Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry, and Ginny took a chair opposite. He still seemed interested by the paper.

“Mate, you feeling alright?” Ron asked

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Harry answered.

“Well, you know…with all the doom and gloom hanging over our heads,” Ron smiled slightly. “We gotta have some light in our lives, however short they could be cut.”

Harry took out his wand. “Lumos,” he said, and the tip ignited. “This oughta do it.”

Hermione anxiousness seemed to have eased slightly. She smiled a bit too.

Ginny looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Harry, are you really OK?” she asked.

“I'm fine Gin. Really,” he told her easily.

A part of him missed her. But that seemed childish now, in light of his current life. He didn't think he could ever be normal. Too much had happened, and more difficulties lay ahead. His ability to love was key to defeating Voldemort, he knew, but how it was supposed to be utilized, Harry had not the faintest idea. Perhaps it was Ginny. Maybe Hermione? But alas, any girl he was involved with romantically was like a death sentence to her. He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't.

Amid his thoughts, Harry noticed Mr .Weasley, Remus, Tonks and Regulus walk into the kitchen. They muttered their good mornings to everyone in the room, and also took seats at the table, a mug of coffee in front of each one of them.

“Well, Harry, good to see you up and around,” said Mr. Weasley cheerfully. “You gave us quite the scare a couple of days ago,” he added seriously.

Tonks looked rather tired as well. Still, she smiled at Harry. “Good to see you, Harry.”

“I'm lucky to be alive, as it is,” Harry told them, “if it wasn't for you all, I could be dead by now. Thanks…” he said, but the thought permeated his head again.

End it all…

He snapped out of it, when he heard Regulus calling his name.

“Harry!”

“What?”

“I was saying, can you, Ron and Hermione come with me after breakfast? I want to tell you something important,” Regulus said, ending in a hopeful note.

“Um, yeah, definitely,” Harry gave his assent.

“For sure,” Hermione said

“Viddw,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

“What did he say?” Regulus frowned.

“I said, will do,” answered Ron as he swallowed. “Honestly, it's not that difficult to understand…”

Half an hour later, they had joined Regulus out on the backyard porch. Gentle rain drummed on the roof, and the low rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.

“Harry,” he said, “I wanted to tell you a story about my life. About how I became involved with the Death Eaters, and how I escaped. How I lived to be here today, because if Voldemort found me, he would kill me on the spot.”

The trio settled around Regulus, and he began his narrative, as the rain continued to fall around them.

“I suppose the whole story begins with my mother. In the beginning, Lord Voldemort was looking for supporters of his campaign to promote pure blood. At the time, nobody had the slightest idea he would become the most notorious murderer in our history. That people would one day be afraid to speak his name.”

“As it happened, my mother forced me to join the Death Eaters, and I regret it now, but then I agreed to do it under pressure from her. It was an easy job at first. Voldemort often told us about how our world was going to disappear, if Muggles and half bloods continued to spread. To some, he was inspirational, but I could feel that he was planning something far more sinister, and I began to doubt my commitment”

“Not too long afterwards, the attacks began. There were deaths and disappearances reported daily, happening all over Muggle villages and towns in England. Voldemort's supporters swelled, until he literally had an army at his disposal. At the height of his power, nearly one hundred thousand wizards and witches were under his command.”

“So when did Harry defeat You-Know-Who?” Ron interrupted

“That's coming up, Ron, be patient,” Regulus told him. “Anyways, I became more and more uneasy about my role in the grander scheme of Voldemort's organization. And you know that when you take the Dark Mark, it means a lifelong service to Voldemort. But nevertheless, I made up my mind to escape when an opportunity to do so came.”

“I didn't have to wait. A week later, I heard about Sirius being imprisoned for killing twelve people with a single curse, and especially Peter Pettigrew. What struck me as odd, though, was that I saw Peter later that day, on his way to give a report to Lucius Malfoy. He had framed Sirius, and I was angry, because I had seen the two of them as friends back in Hogwarts. But I couldn't do anything. Even if I escaped, it would be suicide to try and break out Sirius from Azkaban.”

“Didn't you at least keep in contact with him?” Harry asked

“I couldn't, Harry. Any correspondence could be traced and revealed where I was. For it was then that you miraculously defeated Voldemort. It was chaos in the ranks after he disappeared, and I managed to run away into hiding. By then, I had a theory that Horcruxes might be what Voldemort had used to become immortal. My father had mentioned them a few times when we were growing up, but he always changed the subject when I asked him about them.”

“Eventually, I settled in Hogesmeade. I changed my identity for the time being, and I worked at Honeydukes for about ten years. That way, I could keep an eye on you, Harry, when you came to Hogwarts, and watch Snape at the same time. He was a Death Eater too, as you might know, and some may change their appearance, but not their character. I knew he would be tempted in his old ways some day.”

Hermione frowned. “And how exactly did you know that?”

“When I retrieved the locket from the cave, I kept it with me, but I knew it was just one of several that Voldemort had. It was just a matter of time, before he came back, and that time eventually came, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. The mark had been growing stronger all year. What worried me more then, though, was you, Harry. I knew you were one of the champions, and Voldemort's lackeys were sure to somehow infiltrate the tournament. But how, I couldn't foresee.”

“It was a smart plan, and it worked, for the most part. You survived, which was unplanned, and I'm glad that you did, because that summer and the following year, Voldemort became more active. He began gaining power, and I had to go into hiding again. Before I was to disappear once more, Dumbledore came to me and told me to be prepared, because he knew he didn't have long left to live.”

“So, I spent the next year running from place to place. Voldemort had sent someone to track me down, and it turned out to be Bellatrix Lestrange, as I found in one particularly close shave with death. She nearly managed to curse me, but I managed to apparate away just in time.”

“Dumbledore was dead around the time I was traveling towards London. I couldn't tell you how I knew, because I am not certain myself. But what I did know was that someone would soon read his notebooks, and when that happened, I had to find you.”

“Wow,” Ron was nearly speechless. His mouth hung open with the newfound respect he had for the man in front of him.

“Regulus, what is it you're trying to tell me?” Harry asked.

“The point of my story, Harry, is that you need to stand and fight. When you defeated Voldemort the first time, many of his followers killed themselves, because of despair. I could've been one of them. But I chose to stay and take on the right path. It was, and still is, extremely difficult, Harry, but it is negotiable,” Regulus told him.

“The only reason I'm alive today is because of my friends,” Harry said. “If Hermione had never taught me the Summoning Charm, I might have died in that graveyard with Cedric. Or if you hadn't saved me just a week ago, I would've been a goner!”

“That's an important difference between you and Voldemort, Harry,” Hermione put in. “You have the courage to face and fight him, but you can't do it alone. That's why we are here…to help you along the way.”

“But I could fail! The prophecy didn't say anything about me winning. Just the same, I could die,” retorted Harry. “And once I'm dead, everyone else is easy pickings. I don't want that.”

“Then you see how much you stand to lose if you give up now,” Regulus patiently said.

Harry was rendered speechless. He had voiced what had been gnawing at him this entire time, yet his wish to die and give up put him in a conflicting position. Yes, he did not like the prospect of losing the people who cared about him most. Especially Ron and Hermione. But if he chose the easy way, the all his efforts, and those of everyone else would be in vain, and he did not want that either.

“Regulus, did you by any chance take hold of the locket when you saved me?”

“Actually, it was clasped in you hand the entire time, Harry. When we arrived here, I had to pry it from you. Right now it's in one of the drawers in the sitting room,” Regulus said.

Harry raised himself from his chair and walked inside the house without another word. The rain had stopped as well, but the dark clouds remained hanging ominously in the sky.

“Why did he ask?” Ron wondered.

“Oh, Ron, it is unbelievable how thick you can be sometimes,” Hermione sighed. “He's going to try to destroy it, and that means….gosh! Come on!” she shrieked and grabbed Ron by the hand, as they bolted through the door, and up the stairs to Harry's room.

Harry had locked the door, and placed the locket around his neck. At first, nothing happened, but then, a slight tingling traveled through him, slowly becoming more intense. He heard hurried footsteps, shouting voices and someone banging on his door, before the world around him turned mute. He caught a glimpse of the door being reduced to splinters and Ron and Hermione barged in. Then he lost his balance, and began falling, falling…

“Harry Potter,” a stone-cold voice spoke in his head, “so you found me, a seventh of Voldemort himself. Tell me, did you honestly think you could defeat me?”

“I…I…” Harry struggled to communicate, but something was stopping him from responding to the entity inside of him.

“Just as I suspected. You are weak, Harry Potter. Love is a weakness that will not save you from me. Remember, there is only power, and there are those too weak to seek it, much like yourself.”

“No…you…bastard!” Harry finally said. The hold seemed to loosen a little.

“A bastard, am I?” Voldemort's voice laughed evilly. “No, Harry, I am the wizard, who will kill you, slowly and painfully, in the next few hours. Then your mudblood friend and the traitor family you seem to care so much about. Or perhaps I shall kill them first, to let you enjoy the spectacle.”

“You…you wouldn't…” Harry breathed. “I won't let you!”

“That's what your parents said too, Harry, once upon a time. As you see, they succumbed. They died, leaving you alone and forsaken in this world. Your borrowed time has come to an end, Harry. You should accept it,” the shadow answered him smoothly.

“Never…”

“Then so be it. Crucio!” Tom's voice screamed, and Harry's body was wracked by unimaginable pain.

Ron and Hermione stood, watching helplessly, as Harry laid unconscious, occasionally muttering something, and shaking uncontrollably. Sweat had formed on his forehead, as he struggled against the Horcrux. Ron's face was a delicate shade of green, as he willed himself to stay on his legs, and Hermione was kneeling on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

The pain ended as suddenly as it had come. Harry took his bearings, and he was surprised he could still think coherently.

“Well, Harry Potter?” the voice said slowly. “Will you join me, or do you wish to endure more pain and suffering?”

“Never,” Harry growled icily. “I'd rather die…”

“As you wish,” Voldemort's voice sneered. “Avada Kedavra!”

Harry could feel that he was leaving…the images of Ron and Hermione's faces swam to the forefront of his mind…

Imagine how much you have to lose.

He couldn't leave, not yet.

“Ron!” Hermione cried, “He's not breathing! Go, find help, quickly!”

As if burned, Ron jumped, and ran down the staircase, five steps at a time. He hit the floor on the bottom hard, and rolled into the troll leg umbrella stand, before standing up, and rushing into the kitchen.

“Mum! Mum! Call Madam Pomfrey, we have a big problem, “he spoke very quickly.

“What is it, Ron? I don't suppose you've - “ but she was cut short.

“It's Harry. He tried to…he did an assignment for Dumledore, but he's not breathing. Now please, call her!”

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” Mrs. Weasley wailed, as she ran across the kitchen to the fireplace.

“What's this shouting all about?” Regulus walked in, looking worried.

“Can you stop asking questions? Harry is dying upstairs!” Ron shouted, before doubling back to Harry's room.

The news had spread quickly, and within a minute, the whole population of Grimmauld Place had assembled in Harry's room, anxious and worried.

“He's breathing again,” Hermione announced, sounding very relieved and allowing a small smile to come to her features.

“How - “ Remus began, but he was interrupted.

“Make way, coming through,” Madam Pomfrey's voice drifted over the crowd. “Oh, what have you put his unfortunate boy through this time!” she exclaimed at the sight of Harry, whose chest rose and fell, indicating he was still alive. “Get out this instant! He needs treatment immediately!”

One by one, the Weasleys, then Remus, Tonks, Regulus, and finally Hermione filed out of the room.

Several hours later, Madam Pomfrey came down the stairs. She looked tired, but relieved, and not a little stern.

“How is he?” Remus asked anxiously.

“Harry will live, thankfully. It's nothing short of a miracle that he survived. The amount of exertion has left him severely exhausted. I suggest he remain in bed for at least another week, and it will be a few days before he wakes up. Make sure he doesn't become excited, and always keep an eye on him. If anything else happens, call me right away,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Of course, “Molly said, “I'll personally keep an eye on Harry.”

The days dragged on. Uneasiness seeped in the air, and everyone was tense. Mrs. Weasley had strictly forbidden access to Harry's room, and only she went in a few times a day to check up on how he fared. Other than that, Harry slept on.

Harry felt warmth on his face, a feeling of peace and tranquility quickly spreading all over him. Was this heaven? It had to be…

But opening his eyes, he found himself lying on his bed, sunlight streaming in through the window. He shook his head, and suddenly, everything came flying back. The Horcrux! He had destroyed it in the end, as love had been too formidable an opponent for Voldemort. Dumbledore was right, once again…

The doorknob turned, and Harry saw Mrs.Weasley come in. She was walking quietly, but when she saw Harry was awake, she stopped in her tracks.

“Oh, Harry! You're alright, thank God!” she exclaimed, as she ran and enveloped him in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs.

“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry choked out, but he was also happy that he was alive, but not yet very well.

A few days later, when Harry felt strong enough, he was sitting with Ron and Hermione at the kitchen table. Members of the Order were out and about on leads about Death Eater activity, and the trio had been left to ponder their next move.

“How long d'you reckon we need to find the next horcrux?” Ron asked.

“I don't know Ron, but I already have some ideas,” Hermione answered.

Harry had remained strangely quiet all morning.

“Are you OK, Harry?” Hermione questioned him.

“I'm just worried Hermione. I barely survived this Horcrux, and the others could be a lot stronger. One could finally kill me.”

“Not until you can love, Harry. That's one power Voldemort will never have, and can never take away from you,” Hermione said, but her expression seemed a little distant.

“Will you bloody stop saying You-Know-Who's name?” Ron hissed. “I know we can defeat him, Harry. One way or another, we'll succeed.”

“But it's what Voldemort said to me. He wanted me to join him. Told me it would be easier than fighting, and you would all live.”

“Don't listen to him, Harry. Voldemort operates alone. He wants to attack your psychology. Make you think that you're worthless. But you're not, Harry. You're stronger than he is, and that makes Voldemort feel afraid of you,” Hermione explained yet again.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said. He felt slightly better.

“We're with you, mate. All the way,” Ron added.

Together, the three friends would do all they could to defeat the darkest wizard in recorded history. Failure was a very real possibility, but they would do their best to steer clear of it. If Death caught up to them prematurely, they would go; knowing all they could do was done. But they had to keep striving - for a better future, and a better world.

A/N This story is finished now...if you enjoyed it, then I'm happy. Reviews are always welcome...and I'll see you on my next project...

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5. A Vigorous Deception

This fic is not finished…promised I would update it a long time ago, and the time has finally come…so, where we left off was Harry managing to destroy one Horcrux, and now the Trio move on the hunt for the other ones…hope you enjoy this chapter ;)

Chapter V: A Vigorous Deception

Tonks sat in the chair, perusing a copy of the Daily Prophet. Judging by her tired eyes, she did not absorb much of the printed material.

“Nymph?” came a voice from the doorway.

Her gaze snapped up, and met Remus'.

“Oh, good morning,” she said. “I didn't see you come in.”

The last of the Marauders only smiled good-naturedly, and proceeded to sit beside his love.

“So why are you awake so early?” he asked her.

“Couldn't sleep,” Tonks replied and yawned widely. “And you?”

“Me? Well, I couldn't sleep either,” Remus answered.

“No, there is something else, I can tell,” she told him confidently. “So what's bothering you?”

She somehow knew of what Remus was about to speak.

“Harry,” he seceded at last. “The assignment from Dumbledore - it could kill him, and he has much more left to do.”

“How much more?” Tonks asked him, her eyes wide.

“I honestly cannot tell you, for I'm not informed myself,” he said heavily.

At that precise moment, Regulus walked in.

“Mornin' all,” he greeted rather sleepily. “How are we this morning?”

“As good as can be expected,” Remus said quietly. “With Voldemort and the danger that now surrounds us…”

Regulus only smiled sadly, and proceeded to make himself a cup of coffee.

“We can only hope for the best,” he said from the kitchen; Remus could only agree.

**

The rather tall, blond woman stood amidst the trees, observing her surroundings alertly, trying to identify possible hidden threats. The reason for her nervousness was the secret communication she had received two days previously, and been compelled to destroy immediately after absorbing its written content.

“Mother!”

“Oh, Draco,” Narcissa wailed in surprise when her eyes landed upon her son.

They embraced tightly. Malfoy's wife seemed unable to relinquish her hold of their son.

“Your father,” she said softly. “He has been asking me of your whereabouts. I told him I don't know.”

“Has he persisted?”

“Oh yes, he has,” his mother affirmed. “And I am quite afraid he may soon employ further, more drastic means to locate you.”

“Mother, all you need to know for now, is that I work with Severus Snape. He and I, we are against Voldemort. Tell father that I've disappeared in the Forbidden Forest, trying to escape an enraged centaur, and that I could quite possibly be dead,” Draco said this to her very rapidly.

“But…will I hear from you again? Is there any way I can stay in touch with you?” she pleaded with him.

“No, it is too dangerous. Don't worry, I will contact you if the need arises,” he said soothingly.

A sudden rustle of the leaves of a nearby bush made two pairs of eyes snap towards it.

“I must go,” Draco whispered, and with a completely silent disapparition, he vanished in thin air.

“Narcissa! What are you doing way out here?” asked a Death Eater she did not recognize. “Come back inside, you'll catch a code…”

Slightly shaken, she followed the Death Eater back towards the Malfoy Manor in silence.

**

Harry was quite preoccupied today. His improving condition allowed him to attempt small exercises in dueling and curses, with the help of both Remus and Regulus. Ron joined him in the endeavor, but Hermione declined, voicing her reason that she would be the only one left to research possible locations and shapes for the next Horcrux.

She had also chastised her best friends for not taking an initiative to help her. Feeling rather guilty, both of them had promised to help her read through the dusty tomes of the Black family library; Ron more passionately so, because his relationship with books was not a good one…

“Duck!”

Remus' curse barely missed Harry. He managed to evade it by a combination of skill and luck, and returned fire with a spell of his own.

The lesson continued on. Regulus was initially occupied with coaching Ron on various techniques of evasion and shielding spells, and then, they engaged in quite a fierce duel. Despite showing valiance and determination to prove his worth in combat, Regulus eventually showed his class, and overpowered the redhead in the end.

“Good show, Ron,” he said encouragingly, “You aren't a bad dueler. Bit rough around the edges, but with more practice, you can only improve.”

“Thanks, Regulus,” replied Ron somewhat blandly; he had expected more of himself, but not to be bested by a former Death Eater on the run.

They stood aside, and observed Harry and Lupin locked in a duel of their own. Ron appreciated the fact that Harry was a better combatant than he was, but a small amount of jealousy over it still persisted.

The score had been evened between Harry and Remus. Each fired volley after volley of spells, but neither could gain the upper hand. Shield charms, sparks, and the sound of impacting energies captured the attention of the scant audience and caused an immense concentration on both parties involved in the duel.

The level of the noise produced, however, was not unnoticed. Still locked in combat, no one noticed the door slightly opening, and Hermione walking in.

“Hey!” she shouted over the ruckus. “Can you hear me?”

That was the moment Harry made a fatal mistake.

“Hermione! Don't - “ but what she wasn't supposed to do, Hermione did not understand, because she watched in horror as Harry was thrown back by the force of a curse from Remus, and slammed heavily against the wall.

The sudden silence that followed was pregnant with fear. Hermione seemed the first to come out of her shock.

“Harry!”

She rushed to his collapsed form, and turned him over on his back; in attempt to awake him, she shook him rather roughly.

It must have worked - his eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, thank god you're alright!” Hermione said, and embraced him tightly.

Harry, his head still aching, hugged Hermione back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus approaching. The expression on his face was unreadable, but it seemed, he was determined to say something; and he did.

“Harry,” he began, “you are a good fighter, but distractions could spell your end. Learn to ignore what is attempting to divert your attention.”

“Will do, Remus,” Harry said, now that Hermione had released him from her hold.

“Alright - then, till our next lesson.”

Lupin walked out into the corridor, and was soon followed by Regulus. Harry, Hermione and Ron were left alone.

“So…how are you two doing?” Hermione asked.

“Regulus whooped me pretty good,” Ron admitted, his eyes staring fixedly at the floor. “Wish I could've done better.”

“No worries, mate, you're definitely becoming better at dueling,” Harry said approvingly.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“And you,” the raven-haired wizard turned to Hermione. “What did you pay us a visit for?”

“Well,” she replied, “for two reasons - one, to tell you to keep the noise down, and two, I may have the next Horcrux.”

“That's amazing, Hermione,” Ron said enthusiastically, and thumped Hermione on the shoulder: perhaps harder than he intended, because she buckled, and fell right into Harry. Both of them nearly toppled over on the ground.

“Mate, do try being more gentle next time with Hermione,” Harry told him with a slightly ironic smile once they had regained their footing.

“Oh, right…I will,” mumbled Ron. “So what is the next Horcrux?” he asked his other best friend with renewed confidence.

“I think it is a sword Merlin left at Hogwarts, when he died over a thousand years ago. It's existence and location was known until the middle of the twentieth century, but then it disappeared, and since then it has been feared destroyed. What's intriguing is that at the time, the Ministry was preparing to study it for its magical properties, but then it vanished into thin air. That event, however, happens to coincide with Voldemort's beginning rise to power,” Hermione said in one entire breath.

“When do we start looking?” Harry inquired immediately following Hermione's narrative.

“Harry, this is just a theory for now,” Hermione said. “The sword might not be at Hogwarts at all, but somewhere else entirely…”

Faced with the daunting prospect, Harry's hopes deflated entirely. Lord Voldemort was cunning, terrifying, and meticulous in his endeavors - knowing his secret was certainly no guarantee for success.

“Well then,” Ron said, “Hogwarts remains the best place to start looking.”

A common consensus was at last reached, and the trio began to devise a plan to infiltrate the school - after falling under Voldemort's control, it would now be nearly impossible to gain the much-needed access.

Invaluable resources existed at Hogwarts - its library, rich in the history of magical artifacts, and more importantly, the school was where Dumbledore's writings resided. Hopefully, Vodlemort was unaware of the existence of those writings.

Harry had been entrusted with the knowledge of the location of those writings, shortly before his mentor left the world of the living; now, it was him who was charged with the responsibility of retrieving them, and the Horcrux.

His spirits low, Harry listened, as Ron and Hermione heatedly discussed a plan for the infiltration of Hogwarts.

A/N: And there is chapter five…hopefully I will be able to salvage this fic and turn it into a respectable storyline with the next updates…and reviews are appreciated too

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