Chapter 33: Circles
Grimmauld Place, August 2nd 1997
I feel the bed shifting next to me.
Potter's still there, sprawled against me, his legs tangled with mine, his other hand splayed against my chest, fingers twitching slightly.
I crack my eyes open, and see him propped up on one arm while lying on his side, watching me carefully.
"Hey," He murmurs, a smile curving his lips.
I could get used to waking up like this.
"Good morning," I say back, blinking away the drowsiness. "How are you feeling?" I ask quietly, giving him a scrutinising look. He does look better, quite the opposite from what he was last night.
Potter gives a half-shrug. "Not bad," He says lightly, and then, with hesitance, he slowly leans closer to me, and brushes his lips softly against mine.
Definitely could get used to waking up like this.
He doesn't move away, so I kiss him back, taking a hold of his waist. Potter grunts against my lips and presses closer to me, causing delicious shivers running down my spine, making all the blood in my head travel to my groin, making me gasp into the slow and gentle kiss.
Then the events from the previous night come flooding back.
"…Wait," I breathe, and Potter pulls slightly back, his green eyes dark, and his features flushed.
"Yeah?" He asks, a small furrow between his brows, his eyes moving between mine.
I clear my throat and force myself to stay still, and not give in to the divine friction I know is only inches away.
"We need to talk."
Potter's frown deepens, and then he moves further away, disentangling his legs. I try to ignore the feeling of emptiness it causes.
"Okay?" He mutters, watching me with reserve.
I take in a breath, schooling my features, and watch him blankly. "I looked into your mind last night."
It takes a couple of seconds for Potter to react. Then he gives me a look; mixed with hurt and confusion.
"Why? Why would you do that?" He asks, sounding anxious. Frightened.
Potter moves to sit up on the bed, his posture stiff and withdrawn.
I let out a weary sigh and sit up on the bed as well, turning towards him. I watch him for a moment before I speak. "I apologise. I had to know. I had to make sure if he was there, feeding you visions," I say stiffly, and rage mixes into Potter's expression.
"You had no right," He says coldly, his eyes narrowing at mine.
I give him a slow nod. "I know."
Potter gapes at me, then lets out a small scoff, shaking his head. "I…I'm gonna go downstairs," he eventually mutters, stands up, and without sparing me another look, he leaves through the door, slamming it shut.
I let out a long, suffering sigh. "Brilliant…"
A half an hour later, I leave my room, freshly showered and dressed. There's a tense silence the moment I step into the kitchen. Ronald and Hermione are sitting side by side, opposite to Potter, mirroring their positions from last night.
"Good morning," I say expressionlessly, and then move to sit down at the table, next to Potter.
Ronald and Hermione both mumble their good mornings, while Potter merely lifts his brows, not moving his eyes from the morning paper.
After a long moment, Ronald clears his throat and speaks. "Anything new in the Prophet? …Anyone we know dead?"
Potter glances at his friends, and then me, a scowl in place. "Dunno. Why don't you ask Regulus? He's figured out a straight line into Voldemort's head, you see?" Potter says with a dry voice, pushing the paper to the opposite side of the table, before standing up. "I'll be at the library," he grunts, and leaves the kitchen.
Fucking brilliant.
Both Hermione and Ronald give me matching incredulous looks. "What was that?" Hermione asks quietly, wincing when there's a definite slam of a door, and my mother's portrait starts to scream the usual obscenities.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Kreacher…" I summon the elf, and as soon as it appears at the end of the table, I ask it to silence my mother's portrait.
Kreacher leaves with a small grumble, as if it is a tedious task, even though we both know how the elf loves to talk with her.
"I looked into his mind last night, after he fell asleep," I explain to the still bewildered teens.
Ronald's eyes widen with surprise, while Hermione lets out a loud huff, and speaks with a shrill voice, "You did what?"
"…You mean, you broke into his mind?" Ronald says harshly.
I lift my brows at them. "I merely made sure the Dark Lord is not occupying his mind."
Hermione shakes her head, her brow furrowed. "You told me you'd discuss it with him," she says accusingly.
"I know. I didn't," I say, annoyed that I feel the need to explain myself to them. "I apologised."
Ronald blinks at me. "Unbelievable…" He mutters and then snatches the paper, starting to skim it through.
Hermione stares at me for a moment with disapproval written into her eyes, before her expression softens somewhat.
"Harry's obviously hurt by this," she says, and I feel a twinge of guilt in my stomach.
Of course, I know he is hurt and angered by what I did, and I don't blame him. Still, it was something that could not have been avoided. Had the Dark Lord been there, in control of Potter's mind, and the rest of us oblivious to it…there wouldn't have been a next morning for any of us.
"…Maybe…maybe you should try harder? To apologise?" Hermione suggests gently.
I avert my eyes and clear my throat, nodding silently at her.
Regulus enters the library not long after I've barged in here. I'm still angry about what had happened, even though I know, I know, it was actually a rather clever idea. How else would we know if Voldemort was there, looking at my thoughts, finding out about Regulus, or finding out about our plans to end Voldemort and destroy his Horcruxes?
The thought was brilliant. Is brilliant. But he should've asked me. I would've given him permission. I still would. I trust him.
With mixed feelings of anger and injustice, I glare at the golden lettering in the spine of a random book, trying to find a way to let go of the poisonous thoughts.
Regulus walks closer, stopping next to me, turning towards me. "…Harry, I'm sorry," He says quietly, his voice softer than usual, his tone apologising.
I glance at him, the annoyance and the hurt dissipating, my resolve faltering as I take in his sincere expression, the pleading look in his eyes.
I swallow hard, and with a small nod, I reach out to him. Regulus pulls me close to him, into a soft embrace, and I feel settled, warm again as I breathe in his soothing scent, resting my forehead against the crook of his neck.
"I won't do it again." He murmurs next to my ear.
I give a small shrug, still holding onto him. "I think you could. Just…" I say, pulling back a bit to look into his eyes, "…I will be the one deciding if and when. Okay?"
Regulus gives me a curt nod, looking grave. "Of course."
I watch him quietly, unable to suppress a small smile, unable to stay mad at him any longer, not when he looks like that, so bloody earnest. So remorseful.
"Can I kiss you now?" I ask softly.
Regulus looks stunned for a fraction of a second, then he gives me a mildly amusing look, licking his bottom lip. "I think you might."
I press my hand gently against the side of his neck as he leans closer to me, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. I close the distance between us, and Regulus's grip on my waist tightens when his lips fit against mine with purpose, our mouths soft and open and hungry for more.
Sighing into the kiss, I slide my hand upwards, tangling my fingers into his hair, and tug gently. A soft grunt escapes from Regulus's lips, and then I feel his tongue, seeking access into my mouth.
The door to the library opens, breaking the delightful shiver I feel warming my blood, and there's a loud clearing of one's throat.
"Ron!" Hermione hisses with an exasperated tone, as Regulus and I pull hastily away from each other, both more or less flustered.
Ron scratches his neck with an embarrassed expression. "Should we, er…talk about our plan…?" He asks, giving us a pointed look, even when his ears tinge with red.
I let out an uncomfortable cough. "Yeah. Sure." I say, scratching at the back of my head, before I move towards the sitting area and plop down on the sofa.
Hermione shakes her head and gives Ron a withering look. "I can't believe you just did that…" She mutters to him, and follows my lead, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.
Regulus and Ron too follow us and sit down, the former with an indecipherable look, sitting next to me on the sofa, the latter taking a seat opposite to me in an armchair, eyeing me with a meaningful and determined expression.
Hermione starts to speak after clearing her throat. "I want to make sure we are all on the same page here. If we are to do this," she says, giving Regulus a hesitant glance. "There cannot be secrets between us."
Regulus stares blankly at her. "I have nothing to hide."
Hermione gives him a nod and turns her gaze to me. "Harry?" She asks with a gentle look, but firm voice.
I lift my brows up. "What?" When Hermione merely stares stonily back, I let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine." I huff. "I'll let you know all the delightful details the next time Voldemort's mind overpowers mine," I continue gruffly.
Hermione gives me an uneasy look.
Regulus stands up suddenly, and moves towards the windows that are facing the street.
"What is it?" Ron asks, stands up and walks to Regulus. "Blimey…" He whispers, after taking a look at the window.
Both Hermione and I jump up from our seats and join Ron and Regulus.
There're two black-cloaked men walking down the street, slowly, gazing up towards the houses. I can't see if either of them is wearing a mask, or holding a wand, but both have their hoods covering their heads. They definitely do not look like Muggles.
"Are they – "
"Yes." Regulus says, interrupting me. "Death Eaters," he says quietly, as Hermione gasps.
Ron shakes his head and stares at the men's retreating backs. "How in the Merlin's saggy balls did they find us?" He breathes.
"Maybe…maybe they're watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Harry owns the house, after all," Hermione says thoughtfully.
"What? How would they – " I start, but I'm interrupted by Hermione.
"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember? They'll know Sirius left you the place," she says quickly. She glances at Regulus, a small frown between her brows. "How did you know they were there?" She asks, giving him a strange look.
How, indeed…I eye Regulus curiously. Does he have some kind of connection to other Death Eaters through the Mark, or something?
Regulus watches as the Death Eaters take one last, sweeping glance behind them and then disapparate. "My father put a lot of effort to magically protect this place," He says simply, turning to walk back to the seating area. "I know when someone Apparates within one mile of this house."
"Oh." Hermione says, sounding impressed. Ron and I share an equally impressed look.
"Rowle…" Regulus mutters after a short silence, after Hermione, Ron and I have taken our seats in the seating area.
"What about him?" I ask, feeling the phantom pain on my forehead when I remember that it was Rowle who had been tortured last night.
Regulus eyes us for a moment before he speaks. "I saw Rowle talking to him, when I looked into Harry's mind," Regulus explains mutedly.
Then he turns his contemplative gaze at me. "He said something about you…leading them to your location. By using his name," Regulus says quietly.
Hermione and Ron both let out a gasp.
"What if it's not the will?" Ron says slowly. "What if there's some kind of, I dunno, a taboo in his name?" He continues, looking horrified and excited at the same time.
Hermione gives Ron a doubtful look. "I don't know…that…sounds…I mean, how could they even have done that?" She asks incredulously. "How can they place a tracking spell – because that's what it is – into a name…?" Hermione continues, looking each of us with complete bewilderment. "I'd say they're here because they know Harry owns this place…"
"Is that possible? To place a tracking spell on his name?" I ask from Regulus, concern edged into my voice. What else Rowle could have meant?
Regulus stares at the table with a thoughtful look. "I don't know." He says eventually, his frown deepening. "It might be possible. He has the Ministry at his disposal now."
Ron gives Hermione a triumphant look, but it lasts only a second, before he watches us all with a grave expression. "I suggest we steer clear of using that name, for now. Just in case, yeah?"
Everyone silently agrees, still more or less stunned by the possibility.
We then go over the events at the wedding, and I explain the conversation with Krum; we talk a bit about the weird sign – Grindelwald's sign – which none of us know about, but agree that Hermione and Regulus, who are both most well-read in our group about wizarding history, will look into that. Then I tell them how I realised after seeing Krum's wand, that Gregorovitch, the man I tried to find in one of my dreams, is actually a wandmaker.
I explain Regulus the vision I had about Ollivander, the one I saw the night we came to the Burrow. Ron and Hermione already know, as they kind of came to see me as soon as it ended. More and more what I saw in that vision makes sense now. Ollivander had told Voldemort to use another wand to fight me, after the unfortunate duel that had taken place at the graveyard over two years ago. But even that hadn't worked, apparently, as Lucius's wand had broken into pieces as my spell had collided with it.
Regulus listens quietly, watching my features carefully. I wish I knew what he is thinking.
"…I still have no idea how to explain the golden flames…" I say, giving the others a helpless look. "But it looks like Vol – " I stop as Ron gives me a warning look, " – he is looking for a different wand. Powerful enough to beat me, I guess…"
There's a long silence, and everyone seems to be contemplating the topic. If Ollivander wasn't able to give Voldemort a proper answer, would Gregorovitch? There's also a chance that perhaps Ollivander knew the solution for Voldemort's dilemma, but kept his mouth shut, being loyal to the Order – although I doubt it.
Knowing that my wand has some kind of higher power, something that might be able to win a duel against Voldemort, is reassuring. But also knowing that Voldemort is doing everything in his power to seek a mightier weapon to destroy me, is…rather horrifying.
Regulus seems to guess my line of thought, as he changes the topic after giving me a meaningful look. "Why don't you show them what you saw in the Snitch?"
Hermione and Ron eye me curiously as I nod and pull the small mokeskin pouch over my neck and dig up the old Snitch from it, its wings still fluttering feebly. "You remember this?" I ask from Ron and Hermione.
Ron smirks, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah. I still can't believe he left you that thing…I mean, what the hell was that about?"
"I know," Hermione says after pursing her lips to Ron's language. "When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"
"Yeah, same here. But then I realised something. I didn't actually touch this thing with my hands…you remember?" I ask, lifting my brows a bit.
"Of course!" Ron yells, while Hermione stares at me with a bemused look. "That was the one you nearly swallowed!" He continues, grinning widely at the memory.
I nod and put the Snitch against my lips, for the second time in a couple of days, and put it on the coffee table for the others to see.
"There's writing," Hermione breathes with excitement, and snatches the Snitch immediately closer, inspecting it with Ron. "I open at the close…Is that – is it Dumbledore's handwriting?" Hermione asks enthusiastically, looking at me after a beat, supposedly after the inscription has faded once again.
"Yeah, I think so," I say, as Ron mutters the words he's read, under his breath. "But what do they mean?"
Twenty minutes later, no one has an answer. We continue to look at the items Dumbledore left to Ron and Hermione.
Ron displays the Deluminator, clicking it twice to take out the lights and bring them back again.
"The thing is," Hermione mutters after a minute, "we could have achieved that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."
Ron nods and gives the device to Regulus for an inspection. "I know," Ron says with a shrug. "But it's still cool…and from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!"
"But why would he give it to you? Is there something else it does?" I ask, frowning at the device as Regulus turns it in his fingers with an inscrutable expression. "I mean, why would he give any us of these things?" I continue, nodding at the table where the book Hermione was given, and the Snitch lie next to each other.
"I think he knew the Ministry would confiscate and examine everything in his will, but that still doesn't explain why he didn't say anything about these when he was alive…" Hermione mutters, almost absently, as she starts to browse through the book.
I try to rack my brain, to remember anything Dumbledore might have mentioned about these items, during the many meetings we had last year. But I can't think of anything. Could there still be something I have missed?
"And as for this book." Hermione says, glancing at the others, "The Tales of Beedle the Bard…I've never even heard of them!"
Ron gives Hermione a dumbstruck look. "You've never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard? You're kidding, right?"
"No, I'm not," Hermione says hesitantly, glancing at Regulus and me. "Do all of you know them then?"
I shake my head quickly. "No."
"Well, of course I do!" Ron says loudly, eyeing Hermione and me with disbelief. "I can't believe there's actually a book I've read that you haven't..."
I notice Regulus's lips twitching as I glance at him.
"It's a wizarding story book for children," Regulus explains to Hermione and me, then turns to look at Ron. "I'm not surprised Hermione or Harry have not heard of it."
"Oh." Ron says lamely, then eyes us with suspicion. "What stories did you hear when you were children?"
Hermione shrugs, "'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves' and 'Cinderella' –"
"What's that, an illness?" Ron asks, a mischievous look in his eyes.
Hermione rolls her eyes, even if there's a ghost of a smile on her lips. "So, these are children's stories?" Hermione asks, turning the pages and examining them.
"Yeah." Ron says, and leans closer to Hermione to glance at the pages. "Although, I'm quite sure my copy wasn't written in runic script…"
"But I still don't understand why Dumbledore thought I should read them?" Hermione asks with a small frown, confusion taking over her features.
Hermione's question is left unanswered, and some time later, Kreacher announces that lunch is ready. We decide to take a break, and continue making plans after we have eaten.
During lunch, I remember the disturbing bit of information I heard in the wedding. About Dumbledore and his family. I tell the others everything Muriel had said, trying not to sound too bitter, but knowing that I fail brilliantly, as Hermione fixes me strained look, and Regulus eyes me thoughtfully.
Ron reminds us that his great-great aunt is over hundred, and sometimes, rather deranged.
"But why would she say those things? And why didn't Doge defend him?" I argue him, pushing the food – fish pie – around on my plate, my appetite lost the moment I brought up the topic.
Hermione chews her bottom lip in thought. "I don't know, Harry…but that…definitely doesn't sound like the Dumbledore we knew…" She says, trying to reassure me. "I'm sure there's more to the story. There has to be."
I let out a scoff. "Muriel said Dumbledore's sister was held in a cellar. For being different. Kind of reminds me of someone…Oh, wait, yeah. Me!" I say loudly, anger seeping into my voice.
Hermione and Ron both let out a wince, but Regulus gives me a scrutinising look. "Care to elaborate?" He asks stiffly.
The rage I'm feeling falters, as I first don't understand what Regulus means, but then, I remember that he doesn't know. "Um…I'll explain you later," I mutter at him, ignoring the look of discontentment Regulus gives me in return.
"Harry…" Hermione starts with a careful voice, "I still think there's the possibility that Ron's aunt and Doge didn't know everything –"
"You didn't hear it, in the woods," I interrupt her, the events of that night flashing into my mind. The night Dumbledore was killed by Snape. I swallow down the bitterness the mere thought of my previous DADA Professor rouses, and instead focus on what happened in the forest.
"…When the Horcrux created those images, Dumbledore's brother and sister, you didn't hear them – how they were both accusing him for what happened to her," I say hotly, shaking my head in exasperation.
"I was there." Regulus says quietly. "I remember what they said."
I whirl towards him and give him a demanding look. "Well? What do you think happened?"
Regulus's eyes move slowly over the table before he speaks. "The Horcrux. It was part of a very dark soul. One that doesn't hesitate to use someone's weaknesses. To take someone's life," he says darkly, and then fixes his gaze into mine, "One that doesn't think twice about murdering an innocent child."
I struggle not to avert my eyes from his hard gaze, understanding the meaning behind his words, even before he continues, "I would not place my trust into something like that."
Both Hermione and Ron eye Regulus with appreciation and surprise.
There's nothing more to say about the subject. I understand that there can be other aspects to the story, and I need to find out more to know for sure.
Still, that does nothing to remove the resentment I feel towards Dumbledore, for never saying anything. For never treating me like I mattered more than an average student.
Because he mattered to me.
"Let's go this over again," Hermione speaks, and I want to pinch the bridge of my nose.
She starts to go over every detail and information we have regarding the pieces of the Dark Lord's soul that still remain intact, for what has to be the twentieth time.
Or the hundredth.
Ronald's eyelids are already drooping, and it is getting late; the sun has set, and the library is lit with a number of candles and firelight.
We have been at this for many, many hours now, with only a short break in the form of dinner in between.
As Hermione and Potter debate about the third Horcrux – the unidentified one – I run my eyes over the vast amount of research; every book from my library, and from Hogwarts's, that have something to do with ripping one's soul into pieces, are strewn over the coffee table, along with Hermione's research notes and mine.
We know there are means to destroy the objects – both of which reside inside the Hogwarts castle. But before we should concern ourselves with the topic of obtaining these weapons, we ought to find a Horcrux.
We've concluded that the snake is most likely with its master, and thus not the one we try to advance first. That leaves us the Cup of Hufflepuff, and the unidentified object. We can only presume this object has some historical value, as do the rest of them – excluding the snake.
"…And as we know, it is not the sword since it was used to destroy them – but there might be something else that has belonged to Godric Gryffindor. So, I think we should research the history of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Hermione says, and leans towards the coffee table to write it down.
Ronald stifles a yawn. "What about the cup? Do we have any ideas where to find it?" He asks, frowning at the others.
Hermione glances at me with a hesitant look. "Well, as Regulus said before, there is a possibility that it is trusted to another Death Eater, like the diary had been…" Hermione says, chewing the corner of her mouth. "…Although, it might not be, not after Lucius gave his away, and Vol – " Ronald clears his throat loudly, and Hermione lets out an annoyed huff before she continues, "– um – he probably now knows that it is destroyed."
"If he knows the diary has been destroyed, won't he know about the others too?" Ronald speaks, lifting his brows in question. "Like, the locket? And the ring?"
Potter nods thoughtfully at his friend. "Dumbledore once said that you-know-who was…arrogant. That he thought that he alone knew the secrets of magic – maybe…maybe he doesn't think anyone could know about the other Horcruxes, or even that anyone could've known that the diary was a Horcrux, since he thinks he has covered up his tracks well enough. I mean," he mutters, glancing at me, "He thought Kreacher died in the cave…And he thought no one knew that Morfin was his uncle, and that Morfin would die in prison and no one would realise that his memory had been altered," He says, eyeing us with a small frown creasing his brow.
"Although – he left Slughorn alive..." Potter continues uncertainly, chewing the inside of his cheek in thought.
"Perhaps he was confident that his old teacher would stay quiet. That the mere threat of the Dark Lord would be enough," I tell him, and Potter's lips twist into a mirthless smile as he looks at me.
"Yeah, that bit him right in the arse, didn't it…" Potter mutters with his brows raised up.
There's a short silence, before Ronald speaks again, with a disappointed tone in his voice, "so…we don't have a clue where they are, right?"
Hermione gives him a withering look. "Unfortunately, no, we don't."
Potter yawns widely. "Maybe we should continue tomorrow?" He asks wearily, leaning his head against the backrest of the sofa.
Everyone grumbles their agreements, and after organising the books, parchments and quills into neat stacks, our group leaves the library, to retire to our beds.
Grimmauld Place, August 3rd 1997
I almost stumble in my steps as I see someone in the library, having thought that I would be the only one up this early in the morning.
Our sleeping arrangements didn't change from the previous night, and as much as I enjoyed spending the night next to Potter, I barely slept, as my thoughts kept drifting towards the mission and the details surrounding it. Eventually, after listening Potter's peaceful sleep for quite some time, I decided to continue my research, knowing it would be the only way to ease the restlessness inside me.
It is still dark outside; the sun will start to rise soon. Hermione is situated in the seating area, curled into one of the armchairs in front of the flickering fire, her feet tucked beneath her.
"Good morning," I greet politely, and walk further into the library.
Hermione lifts her head from the book, where her nose is nearly buried, to give me a surprised smile and a nod, "Good morning, Regulus," she says and lowers the book on her lap. "Couldn't sleep?"
I give her a noncommittal sound in reply, and then move past her, towards the other end of the library. We have work to do.
During the summer, after I came back to Grimmauld Place and was healed enough for Lupin and my cousin to leave me be for a brief moment every now and then, I did browse through several books that could help us determine the origins of the piece of the Dark Lord's soul that still remains unidentified. The Headmaster was dead, and as he was the most acquainted with the Dark Lord's past, he also had the best insight in matters regarding the Horcruxes. How unfortunate for us.
I walk slowly around the library, running the list of books in my head that could provide to be useful. Summoning them wandlessly, one by one, a small collection of books trails behind me as I sit down in the seating area, organising them on the coffee table with a flick of my wrist.
Hermione watches my movements carefully over her book, and eventually she lowers it, closing it before placing it on the coffee table between us.
"What are those?" She asks and gives the books I brought a curious glance.
"Historical artefacts, wizarding history, anything that mentions one of the Hogwarts founders," I tell her, and take the topmost one, Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding History, opening it after shifting in my armchair into a better reading position.
"Go ahead," I murmur at her, my eyes and my concentration already in the text.
Hermione picks up the next book, and then there's silence, only filled by occasional questions and comments as we go through our respective volumes.
There is something rather soothing, sitting in calmness and quietness while the sun starts to slowly rise outside the tall windows, bringing light into the dark corners of the library.
After nearly two hours, two books, and two feet of notes, we decide to have a break, and go to breakfast.
Potter and Ronald are already in the kitchen, both looking sleep-ruffled and still not entirely awaken, grumbling their good mornings to us.
"Did you two sleep at all last night?" Ronald asks wryly after a large gulp of coffee.
Hermione gives him a pointed look. "Not all of us need a ten-hour beauty sleep."
Potter snorts and then lifts his brows at Hermione and me, a hopeful look crossing his face. "Solved our mysteries already?"
"Hoping to get out of research?" Hermione counters at him, giving him an unimpressed look.
Potter and Ronald exchange a sheepish look. "I suppose…" he says with a small cringe.
Hermione huffs. "No such luck."
Ronald groans and thumps his head against the table.
There's nothing particular in the morning paper, which is somewhat unnerving, as the Ministry – and by extension, the Daily Prophet, is now in control of the Dark Lord. It is unlikely that he would not use it in his advantage.
After breakfast, we are back in the library seating area.
Potter frowns at the table as he speaks. "At least two of the Horcruxes were hidden in places that had some kind of meaning to him – the Gaunt Shack and the cave…I think we ought to start with places that were important to Vol – "
"Didn't we agree not to say that?" Ronald quips suddenly, interrupting him.
Potter gives his friend a wry look but then nods. "Fine. I think we ought to go over the places that were important to You-know-who. Where he lived and visited..."
Hermione nods in agreement. "Sounds good to me. Any suggestions?" She asks, glancing each of us.
"Well, there's the orphanage where he was born and raised. Then there's Hogwarts. Borgin and Burkes, and then…Albania," Potter says, and I have to admit to be slightly impressed by Potter's knowledge about him, even if it is through Albus Dumbledore.
Ronald scratches his jaw thoughtfully. "Would he have hidden anything in the orphanage? Wasn't he…kind of…miserable there?"
Potter gives him a quick nod. "Yeah, I think he wouldn't have. I think he was determined to escape there, and…somehow, I don't see him hiding a part of his soul there…"
I clear my throat. "I agree. It would seem below him to place such essential part of him among the people he despises. The Muggles," I say simply, and don't miss the way Hermione flinches.
Potter hums quietly. "Dumbledore once said that V…You-know-who," he quickly corrects, "wanted to know everything there was about magic, that he was a bit obsessed by it. He would've sought out something…more magical."
"Like?" Ronald asks with his brows lifted.
Potter shrugs. "Hogwarts. Ministry of Magic. Gringotts even."
Ronald lets out a dark chuckle. "I'd rather take Albania than either of those three…" he mutters.
"There can't be anything in Albania," Hermione says thoughtfully. "He'd already made five of his Horcruxes before he went into exile, and Dumbledore was certain the snake is the sixth," she continues. "We know the snake's not in Albania, it's usually with Vol—"
"Oi!"
Hermione grits her teeth and narrows her eyes at Ronald. "Fine! The snake is usually with You-Know-Who—happy?"
Ronald gives her an innocent smile. "Not particularly."
"And I can't see him hiding anything at Borgin and Burkes." Potter says with a small shake of his head. "Borgin and Burke were experts at Dark objects, they would've recognised a Horcrux straightaway."
Hermione nods in agreement. "But surely, if he had managed to hide something to Hogwarts, Dumbledore would've found it?"
"Not necessarily. Even Dumbledore didn't know all the hidden secrets of Hogwarts. Remember the Chamber of Secrets?" Potter asks pointedly. "If there was one place that was really important to him, I bet it was Hogwarts. His first real home, the place that meant he was special…"
Ronald gives his friend a long, hesitant look. "You sure you're talking about You-Know-Who now, and not yourself?"
Potter narrows his eyes at him and is about to argue before I interrupt him.
"It could be possible, that the place holds some significance to him. After all, it was there, where all of it started, where he recruited his first followers," I tell the others.
"…and where he murdered the first time." Potter grumbles, his face hardening as he stares at the table.
I give Potter a glance, but choose not to say more to the subject, since even if Potter's argument is probable, I doubt it would be the reason the Dark Lord would hold the place in a sentimental value.
Ronald lets out a weary sigh and rubs his face before he speaks. "So, Hogwarts, Gringotts and the Ministry. Brilliant," he says ironically. "Where do we go first?"