When Patterns Are Broken

It was a relief that Voldemort was no longer battering his way into Harry’s mind. For all of fifth year Harry had kept a stranglehold on his emotions, forcing them behind the cold veil of occlumency. At times he thought nothing was real, only the quiet cell of his mind. 

Harry had gradually relaxed the continuous occluding, and his emotions were quicker to rise, his reactions more honest. He still worked on the fear of never being able to feel anything again by proving to himself that he could. He could use occlumency when he needed to, he could stop when he wanted to. 

On the way back from another disastrous quidditch practice, the disaster being a certain chess-playing Weasley, Harry and Ron took their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower. They pushed aside the tapestry and discovered Ginny and Dean locked in an intimate embrace, enthusiastically snogging. 

Harry felt an intense, vehement wave of jealousy. He had, of course, seen couples around school, and around in both the magical and muggle world. It was harder for two boys to be dating in the muggle world, but most people, especially in the heart of London, minded their own business. Sirius had assured him the same prejudice didn’t exist as strongly in the magical world, and Harry hadn’t seen anything that said otherwise, but he was still concerned with how people would react if they found out he liked boys in general, and one in particular. Given who he was, and Theo’s family.

He would never have what Ginny and Dean had, what so many other people were able to have. He couldn’t hide behind a tapestry to snog, or hold hands in the hall, or go to Hogsmeade together, or even be seen studying together. Harry had kept Theo a secret for over three years, and while at first it was fun to have a secret friend, someone he could trust, someone he didn’t have to share, as the years progressed it just felt like another thing Voldemort had taken from him. The ability to have a normal relationship, with anyone. The past summer was the closest they had got, but the growing threat of Voldemort truncated it. 

So, in that moment, he felt a brief burst of hatred for Ginny and Dean and their stupid and insensitive public display, flaunting themselves, and blocking the bloody passageway like the nuisances they were. 

“Oi!”

Ginny and Dean sprang apart. 

“What?” Ginny said, frowning at Ron. 

“I don’t want to find my own sister snogging people in public!” 

Harry was viciously pleased with Ron’s admittedly outrageous behavior. He stood back and watched Ron and Ginny trade insults. Dean got out as fast as he could. Ron stopped himself before calling Ginny a slag, or a scarlet woman like he said to Hermione in fourth year—repeating his mother’s words. Ginny mocked him for only kissing their Auntie Muriel and panting over Fleur’s cheek kisses.

“Harry’s snogged Cho Chang!”

“I absolutely did not.” What on earth was Cho saying about him?

“And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it’s only you who acts like it’s something disgusting, Ron, and that’s because you’ve got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”

Ginny stormed off, and Mrs. Norris came to investigate. He looked at her thoughtfully. She was getting up in the years, but maybe Crookshanks…

Ron walked off too, stomping up the stairs and shouting at a small girl who got in his way. 

“Do you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked out of nowhere, just as they got to the Fat Lady. 

“I mean, if he asked you to the Yule Ball, would you have turned him down?”

Ron gave Harry a funny look, and Harry quickly played it off as a joke. Ron huffed at him, and they went into the common room. 

Ron being weird about his sister kissing someone made his keeper abilities even worse. He missed every quaffle, he injured other players, he yelled at his teammates, and threatened to quit the team. 

There was a girl in a lower year who Harry remembered trying out, Vicky something, and of course McLaggen. But Vicky was part of various clubs and had no time to train, and McLaggen was repulsive. Ron, at least, was a known quantity. If Harry had to, he would just spell Ron into playing right, or maybe potion him… 

Harry pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering gold liquid and pretended to discreetly drip some into a glass of pumpkin juice. 

“Drink up, Ronniekins,” Harry said, handing him the glass. “You’ll feel better after drinking this. Trust me.”

“Don’t drink that, Ron!” 

Harry grinned at Hermione.

“Why not?” Ron asked. 

“You just put something in that drink,” she said, staring at Harry. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry said, fumbling with the vial as he quickly tried to put it away. 

“Ron, I warn you—”

“Stop bossing me around, Hermione.”

Ron chugged the pumpkin juice. 

The weather was good, Ron didn’t know what a placebo was, Malfoy was sick…

Harry frowned at that. This aberration in Malfoy’s behavior further confirmed something was going on with him. Theo said he was becoming more annoying, an amazing feat for a Malfoy, lashing out at people, frantic, owling his mother on a daily basis. 

“I…you…”

“What is it, Ron?”

“My drink…my pumpkin juice…you didn’t…”

Harry winked at him, something he had never done in his life, and said, “We’ll be starting in five minutes. Better get your boots on.”

Poor Katie in St. Mungo’s shouldn’t have to come back to a losing streak. And being stuck in a dormitory, at meals, in classes with a whining Ron was grating. Harry purposefully sat next to Neville and the others flocked around them. He envied Theo sitting quietly by himself at the Slytherin table, nodding distractedly during the rare occasions he was addressed. 

Harry hovered around the pitch, entertained by Zacharias Smith’s condescending commentary. 

“—Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose…”

Ron caught balls, bludgers hit players, Harry caught the snitch, Ginny crashed into the commentator’s stand. They won. 

Harry had forgotten how much the team liked to hug after a match. He bore it with grim determination to see Katie healed and back on a broom. He would throw every resource behind it. 

Hermione confronted him outside of the changing rooms. “I want a word with you, Harry.”

“It was a placebo,” he said immediately.

“A what?” Ron asked, before turning to Hermione. “Are you going to turn us in?”

She gave Harry a considering look. “No, Harry was just pretending to give you the potion.”

“He did? You mean I did all that on my own?” He turned to Hermione. “Did you think I couldn’t?”

“I never said—”

Ron walked off with his broom and Hermione ran off crying. Harry made his own way through the crowd and to the common room, where a party was in full swing. Ginny had her pygmy puff Arnold with her, who Crookshanks was following, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She pointed out Ron tangling tongues with Lavender Brown. 

Harry turned around and left the tower. He found Hermione in an empty classroom, having conjured birds to circle around her. He wasn’t blind, he knew that she carried a torch for Ron. Why, he had no idea, but seeing him with a girl Hermione had never really got on with, who she slept in the same room with, was tough. 

On the other hand, Hermione could have said something at any time. She could have asked him to the Yule Ball if she wanted, instead of waiting for him. She had all but told him to ask her next time. Harry didn’t understand what held either back, other than the questionable choice of partner. 

Just as he was tentatively patting Hermione’s shoulder and contemplating what to say, Ron and Lavender stumbled into the room, laughing and holding hands.

“Oh,” Ron said upon seeing them. 

“Oops!” Lavender said, backing out of the room and giggling.

Harry waited to see what would happen. 

Hermione attacked Ron with her flock of birds. He marveled at this casual use of violence as Ron was bloodied, fighting off the conjured birds. Hermione fled the room, sobbing. 

“I think she needs therapy,” Harry said. Like he was one to talk. 

Harry put the finishing touches on charming Sirius’ birthday present, a CD player, and put a disc in it. He smiled as it began to spin, and he heard music through the headphones. 

“I just need to send this off with Hedwig,” he said to Theo, who was working on a large protective runic array, notes spread around him in a system only he understood. 

“So you’re telling me there’s a fairy tale about three brothers who got gifts from death. An unbeatable wand, a stone that shows you the dead, and a cloak that hides you from death.”

“An invisibility cloak,” Theo said, writing something down. He took out his wand and there was a flash of dark light. It quickly subsided. He took more notes. 

“The one I have is from my dad,” Harry said. “I was told it was a family heirloom. And it’s unusual for invisibility cloaks to last that long?”

“It is.”

“And the ring Dumbledore had was set with a black stone with the Peverell coat of arms.”

“Yes.”

“And Grindelwald, who was friends with Dumbledore, was obsessed with these objects. The Deathly Hallows.”

“And Ollivander the wandmaker has disappeared.”

“That might not be related. He is known as the best wandmaker, and removing him makes it harder to get a new wand here.” Harry finished putting down a piece of spellotape and looked up. “Should we visit Grindelwald?”

Theo snorted at him. “He believed in the story so much he made it his own symbol.”

“Dumbledore told me to have my invisibility cloak with me at all times. If he wanted it, he would have never given it back to me. I would maybe have found out about it from Sirius or Lupin.”

Harry sighed and sat up. “I can see why someone would covet these objects, but they just sound like interesting magical artifacts. A wand isn’t the only way to defeat someone. The cloak can be seen through, it doesn’t hide sound or scent. The stone is the most interesting one to me. I would like to see my parents, if it was real.”

“The Gaunts would have known the fairy tale,” Theo said. “An old pureblood family. It’s a common childrens’ story.”

“Maybe they never made the connection, or never used it, or did and found out it wasn’t real.”

“Who can say?” 

Harry stood up and joined Theo where he sat on the floor. “Do you think they let owls into Nurmengard?”

Just then there was a sound from one of the walls. Harry’s head whipped around. “What was that?”

“Check the map. Maybe someone saw us come in.”

Harry went to find the Marauder’s Map, searching for names on the seventh floor. “I see Peeves down the hall, but he’s moving away. And Malfoy, he’s closer, going down a staircase.”

“Do you think he was trying to get in?”

“How would he even know about it? I doubt he’d talk to a house-elf, or that they would tell him the castle secrets. Dobby works here, after all.”

Harry drifted through the rest of November. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Dumbledore for weeks and didn’t know what the man was up to. Possibly stealing more memories for Harry to watch. 

Given the increased tension between Hermione and Ron, Harry was spared their company. Hermione threw herself headfirst into studying, Ron was wrapped up in Lavender, and neither bothered keeping track of Harry. He and Theo could create almost any room out of the Room of Requirement. Theo had even shown Harry what his old bedroom looked like, a spartan room with little evidence Theo existed in it. It reminded Harry of the image Theo cultivated. It was somber and familiar. 

Most of their time was spent studying. Harry was taking more classes than even Hermione, and while the magic itself came easier and easier, doing the busywork of essays was a slog. He wondered if he should bother at all. His grades in school didn’t decide whether he could sit N.E.W.T.s or not. After six years he was chafing at being told what to read and what magic to perform, at how much it cut into his time.

"I overheard a rumor about you," Theo said one afternoon during Care. They were working with diricrawls, or dodos, who Hagrid wanted to stable over winter. Theo levitated them while Harry clipped their claws, Hagrid working nearby and occasionally checking their progress.

"Which one?" Harry asked, trying to hold the bird's chubby claw still.

"Some people want to slip love potions into your food," Theo said drolly. "A group of girls Parkinson overheard. One was named Romilda Vane."

"I'll talk to the house-elves," Harry said, standing up. "And look up detection spells. I can use occlumency for any that ensnare the senses, as Prince would put it, but poison is also a possibility. I should have thought of that before."

"Theo, there's a good lad," Hagrid said. "You keep them up in the air. Harry, you looked up that anti-apparition jinx?"

"I did, professor."

Hagrid laughed heartily. "Set it up around the stables. We don't want to have to track these birds down again."

Hagrid looked at the two of them, with a pleased grin. "It's good to see you two boys getting along."

Harry couldn't help it. He smiled at Theo. Theo's eyes widened, and there was a faint blush across his cheeks. 

When Hagrid walked away, Theo said quietly, "If you look at me like that, everyone is going to know."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "One day we won't have to care, I promise."

"Hi, Harry!" A dark-eyed girl with long, curly hair appeared in front of him. Harry had just got back from working with Hermione in the library. "Fancy a gillywater?"

"Hi," Harry said unsurely. "I'm allergic to gillyweed. Who are you?"

"Romilda," she said brightly. "Romilda Vane!"

"Right. I need to put my things away…"

“Well, take these,” the girl said, shoving a box at him. “Chocolate Cauldrons, they’ve got firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don’t like them.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Harry watched the girl as she retreated to her friends, who kept looking over at him and giggling. Hogwarts was overrun with Christmas decorations. The mistletoe under which people, mostly girls, would cluster. It was simple for him to avoid these traps. Now people were actively attempting to drug him. 

“Love potions should be illegal,” he said, looking at the box. 

“I told you,” Hermione said, “the sooner you ask someone, the sooner they’ll all leave you alone and you can—”

Hermione spotted Ron and Lavender on the same chair, attached at the face, and immediately walked to the girls’ dormitory. Harry went to his own, and practiced some of the detection spells he looked up on the Chocolate Cauldrons. He had already spoken with the kitchen elves to make sure they didn’t allow anyone near the food, though he would have to look out for switching spells or any other long-distance drugging. Eating in the kitchens again would resolve that. 

After he finished his battery of spells, confirming that the girl had indeed drugged the cauldron cakes, he set the box aside, hoping to run some antidote experiments with it later. How did being in a cake alter the potion, if at all?

Harry trailed a crying Hermione out of Transfiguration, carrying her things. Ron had been essentially bullying her like he did back in first year, making fun of her being excited about her education. Once again, Harry was on his way to pick up the pieces. 

He was going to the Slughorn Christmas party that night. He wanted to take a disguised Theo, but Theo demurred, not wanting to be in the presence of the man at all. Harry had thus far avoided all of the supper parties; if Slughorn wasn’t enough of a deterrent, the other attendees certainly were, and it would take a chunk out of his already limited free time. He was thinking of sneaking Theo in under the cloak when he found Hermione in the girls’ bathroom with Luna. 

After receiving her things, Hermione ran off again.

“Ron can be a bit unkind,” Luna said. “I noticed that last year.”

“I’ve noticed it almost from jump,” Harry said. “He’s an utter git. It’s entertaining watching him self-destruct.”

“You’re rarely this honest, Harry,” Luna said, eyes widening. 

“You’re uncannily perceptive,” he said, shrugging. “I’m not going to make excuses for him. Did you want to go to the Slughorn thing tonight? It sounds boring.”

“I’ve never been asked to a party before,” she said, beaming. “Is that why your eyebrows are dyed? Should I do mine too?”

“It’s transfiguration, and I can do yours as well. What color would you like?”

“Mauve, or maybe periwinkle.”

“I’m not sure yellow suits me,” Harry said, checking the mirror. “What goes with green and black?”

“Silver,” Luna said. 

Harry laughed. “That makes perfect sense for me. Want to meet in the entrance hall at eight?”

“Aha!”

Harry and Luna looked up to see Peeves hanging from a chandelier, grinning at them and swinging. 

“Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves Loony! Potty—”

“Langlock.”

Peeves immediately shut up, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

“Interesting,” Harry said, watching Peeves fly off in a panic. “I didn’t think it would work on ghosts, but since poltergeists can touch things…anyway, see you at eight?”

Sadly, someone unstuck Peeves’ tongue, and he took to Potty lurves Loony with a vengeance. The whole school knew by dinner. 

“You could’ve taken anyone!” said Ron in disbelief over dinner. “Anyone! And you chose Loony Lovegood?”

“Yeah, I chose Luna because Luna is my friend and has been for years,” Harry said, irritated. “And don’t call her that name! She has more sense than half this bloody school.” 

Harry tried to stand up to sit with Hermione instead, who was alone and playing sadly with her soup, but Lavender and Parvati arrived and flanked him and Ron. He was trapped. Harry cursed the inability to apparate within the school. Hermione came over to antagonize Ron, and the two girls who had laughed at him making fun of her in class. 

“No invite,” Parvati was saying. “You’re going, aren't you?”

“Oh yes,” Hermione said, an odd light in her eyes. “I’m meeting Cormac at eight.”

Ron detached himself from Lavender with a grotesque sucking sound. Harry looked dolefully at the Slytherin table. He could see how entertained Theo was by his suffering. He wasn’t even pretending to read his book. Harry had the worst boyfriend. 

“Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don’t you? First Krum, then McLaggen.”

“I like really good Quidditch players.”

Hermione left, and Ron stared blankly into space. Maybe he had wanted to go with McLaggen? If only Theo played quidditch…

Harry was still thinking about the quidditch locker room plus Theo when he met Luna downstairs. She looked like a disco ball.

“Did you want your eyebrows to be mirrored too?” he asked, taking out his wand. Luna quickly agreed, and soon she was reflecting every surface. 

“Where’s the party?” Luna asked as they walked. 

“I think we just follow the noise.”

Harry stepped into a Christmas-themed tent, thrumming with music, conversation, clinking plates and glasses. House-elves weaved through the guests, bearing platters of food. A haze of pipe smoke filled the air, lit by red light from the lamp overhead, and giggling fairies darted through it all. 

Luna, at least, looked happy to be there

“Harry, my boy!” Slughorn boomed as soon as Harry set a foot in. Harry gritted his teeth and smiled. He loathed how Slughorn called him boy. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet.”

He tried grabbing Harry’s arm and Harry stepped aside. 

“It’s dangerous to do that, sir,” Harry said, smiling wider. “The last person who tried to grab me was frozen solid.”

Slughorn pulled his arm back, surprised. “I imagine you do have to protect yourself, my boy. Well, let me introduce you around.”

Harry looked worriedly at Luna, but she dreamily floated behind him as he was introduced to some man accompanied by a vampire, who talked about a biography. Harry ignored him and walked off, having spotted a frazzled Hermione. 

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!”

“I hate it here already,” Harry said, glad he didn’t talk Theo into it. “What’s going on? What happened to you?”

“Oh, I’ve just escaped—I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe.”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Do you need me to take care of him for you?”

Hermione looked alarmed. “No! I can handle myself.”

“Alright. If you need help, let me know.”

They went in search of drinks, finding mead. Harry discreetly tested it, but found it was simply mead. Trelawney was nearby and drinking stronger stuff, complaining about Firenze and calling him a horse.

“If you want to get back at Ron,” Harry said to Hermione, “tell him what happened at tryouts.”

“I’ve got no plans to tell him anything about what might, or might not, have happened.”

“That’s a shame,” Harry said, taking a sip and wrinkling his nose. “I could put McLaggen on the team. It would destroy him.”

“Destroy—oh, no, he’s coming this way!”

Hermione vanished. McLaggen looked around, confused, and wandered off. Harry Confunded him just for the hell of it, and to make sure he kept his hands off Hermione. 

“Harry Potter!” Trelawney announced, finally having noticed him. “My dear boy! The rumors! The stories!”

“All true,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m sure you have Seen it. I have already Seen…”

She gasped, pressing her many beads to her chest. “The omens were never good. Why have you not taken Divination?”

“I practice the Art in solitude, professor,” Harry said solemnly. “I seek the Beyond in the privacy of my own meditations.”

Trelawney seemed taken by his words, but before she could respond, Slughorn horned in. 

“Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject’s most important!” 

Slughorn was drunk as well, swaying, a glass of mead in one hand and a mince pie in the other. “I’ve taught few with his kind of ability,” he slurred. 

Snape was dragged into this as well. “I’ve never had the impression…”

“It’s natural ability!”

“I got an O on my O.W.L.,” Harry said, looking at Snape. 

“You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson…never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus…”

“Really,” Snape said, staring at Harry.

“I take after my mother,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Remind me what other subjects you’re taking, Harry?” Slughorn asked. 

“Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions—”

“All the subjects required, in short, for an auror,” Snape sneered. 

“—Astronomy, Care, History of Magic, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.” Harry stopped, blinking up at Snape. “I don’t want to be an auror,” he said, confused. “I want to be an Unspeakable.”

“And a great one you’ll make too!” Slughorn exclaimed.

“You can free the heliopaths,” Luna said. “And reveal the Rotfang Conspiracy.”

“Is that the one with dark magic and gum disease?”

Harry watched in amusement as Filch dragged Malfoy in. Filch shook him around while Slughorn was gracious about the whole gatecrashing thing. Harry looked at Snape, who seemed both angry and afraid. Harry turned back to Malfoy, who was flattering Slughorn. He looked terrible, like he had a wasting illness. Stress, Harry imagined, from whatever task Voldemort had set him. As far as Theo knew, Malfoy hadn’t told anyone. 

“I’d like a word with you, Draco,” Snape interrupted, grabbing Malfoy and hauling him out of the party. 

“I’ll be right back, Luna,” Harry said, following them. Since learning it was a potentially ancient artifact, and that Dumbledore thought it was important for him to have it on him at all times, Harry had his cloak and threw it over himself, trailing Snape and Malfoy, listening.

“...I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco…”

Harry crouched against the wall as Malfoy fled down the corridor, watching as Snape rejoined the party. Harry got up after a few minutes to sneak back in. Malfoy had confirmed his suspicions, but what was Snape's role?

Harry stood next to Theo in the back garden, gobsmacked.

"I wasn't sure which to get, so I got one of each!" Sirius said excitedly. "Now you both can do one!"

Tied to stakes were a bleating goat and a massive, enraged wild boar.

"I'll take the boar," Theo said immediately.

"I can handle a boar," Harry protested, taking the very sharp knife Sirius handed him. The goat had bright red ribbons tied around its horns. The boar seemed averse to ribbons.

Harry walked up to the goat, then looked at the knife in his hand. "What even is my life."

"Make it a good, clean cut!" Sirius called out.

Theo had one arm wrapped around the boar's head, pulling it back to expose the neck. Harry managed to get the much smaller goat between his legs and did the same.

"On the count of three! One…two…"

Not letting himself think about it, Harry pressed the knife against the goat's neck and dragged it across in a swift motion. Blood fountained out, staining the grass. 

The bleating became a shriek that gurgled into silence, and Harry lowered the feebly kicking goat to the ground, watching as it bled out. When it stopped moving, when it stopped breathing, he looked up to where Theo knelt beside the boar. Theo laid his bloody hands on its side, whispering something to it. 

Harry couldn't take his eyes off him. The dark excitement of killing an animal, the panic of questioning the action, how Theo hadn't hesitated, how surprisingly strong he was, the cold winter air, the thick smell of blood, the heat of it rising from the frozen ground, the determination on Theo's face, the feral look in his eyes…

Harry shook his head, realized he was holding the cooling body of a dead goat in his back garden.

"What's for dinner?"

There was a concerted effort to get Harry to spend the winter holiday at the Burrow. He, of course, ignored it.

He did concede to spending part of Christmas day there, and was just regretting that decision when it was announced Percy and the Minister were outside of the wards.

Mrs. Weasley hurried out to meet her prodigal son, returning a few minutes later to tell Harry the minister was asking for him.

Pushing aside the turkey he had been shredding, Harry got up to see what was going on. He realized this was why the pretense of his being at the Burrow was maintained.

Harry followed the path out of the Burrow’s garden, past where spells ended, to find Percy standing around with a surly expression, and a rangy looking ex-auror with piercing yellow eyes. Neither looked like they wanted to be there. 

“You could have sent an owl,” Harry said, walking up to them. 

“I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time,” said Scrimgeour, after a few moments. “Did you know that?”

“You and the rest of the wizarding world,” Harry said. “What do you want?”

He listened to the man ramble about the Chosen One and rumors and Dumbledore. He finally got to the point: he wanted Harry to do publicity for the Ministry. 

Harry checked his watch. He’d have to endure Lupin for another hour because of this. 

“No.”

“Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?”

Harry laughed at that and walked away. 

The Ministry arranged flooing back to Hogwarts for safety reasons. Wary of the floo being tracked, Harry and Theo apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, close to the school gates.

Harry boldly took Theo’s gloved hand. Theo looked down at him, surprised. 

“Everyone’s going directly into the castle,” Harry said as they walked towards the gates. “I’m taking the opportunity.”

“On your head be it,” Theo said, turning away. Harry could tell from the curve of his cheek he was smiling. 

When they reached the gates they discovered they had been chained up. 

“That’s just great,” Harry said, taking out his wand. Theo did as well. 

“Anti-intruder jinxes,” Theo said. “We aren’t intruders, though. The gates should recognize us.”

“I doubt they can detect if a student is under Imperius,” Harry said, thinking it over. “We can go in the back way but we’d have to walk through Hogsmeade and past aurors.”

“We could call a professor down,” Theo said. “Send a patronus.”

“Hagrid is closest, and he won’t question us being together.”

Harry summoned his patronus and sent a message to Hagrid. Theo tugged on his hand. 

“What is it?”

Harry pulled back, flushed, just in time to hear Hagrid shouting his name. 

“Hagrid tells me he retrieved you and Mr. Nott at the gates,” Dumbledore said, looking down into the Pensieve. It was an unnerving image, the elderly, powerful wizard lit up by the silver light of memory. 

People were signing up for apparition lessons, and Ron had told everyone Harry had done it before, and done side-along as well, and his classmates kept asking him about his experience. He couldn’t get away fast enough. 

“No floo connection,” Harry explained.

“An oversight on the Ministry’s part,” Dumbledore said sagely. “I hear that you met the Minister for Magic over Christmas?”

“He happened to visit Ottery St. Catchpole on Christmas day,” Harry said. “He wanted me to be a mascot or something. I said no.”

“It was Fudge’s idea originally, you know.”

“Well, it isn’t happening,” Harry said shortly. 

Dumbledore explained how Tom Riddle was as a student. Smart, polite, gathering proto-Death Eaters, searching for any signs of his heritage. He found the name Marvolo, and the remains of the Gaunt family: Morfin. 

Dumbledore took him into Morfin’s own memory, where he was approached by a teenage Tom Riddle. Riddle learned his mother had run off with a muggle and died, the muggle returning alone. Riddle stole the Peverell ring, then killed the Riddle family—his father and his grandparents—in their manor. Under Imperius, Morfin confessed to the murder and went to Azkaban without a fight. Dumbledore had found him in Azkaban and legilimized the memory out of him. 

Finally, months after asking, Dumbledore told Harry what he wanted. 

“Sirius,” Harry asked that night, “do you know what a horcrux is?”

Sirius closed his eyes, thinking. “Not that I can remember, why do you ask?”

“Riddle asked Slughorn about them, and Slughorn altered his memory so that it showed him chasing Riddle off for even mentioning it.”

“I’ll check the library,” Sirius said. “If it’s dark I’m sure it’s in there. Have you got a chance to go through Dumbledore’s shelves?”

“No,” Harry said sulkily. “I’m sure he’s stripped the restricted section, though.”

“If Riddle was researching horcruxes, and this memory is important to the Voldemort issue, I doubt Dumbledore would leave books on it where students can access them.”

“Maybe I could use liquid luck and just start a conversation about horcruxes,” Harry said thoughtfully. “A direct approach.”

“Lean on the whole chosen one thing? I need this information to defeat him?”

"It's funny when I do it as a joke," Harry said, "but I can't stand people being earnest about it. I'm just a symbol to them."

"Maybe that's why Dumbledore spread the word of your survival," Sirius said. "An innocent baby, a symbol of hope. Someone to save them."

"What about me?" Harry demanded. "Who's going to save me?"

"Theo."

"Harry."

"Do you know what a horcrux is?"

"Ask the Room."

Harry, who had been lost in thought gazing at Theo in the library, a pile of books and half finished essays on the mating habits of mokes between them, sat bolt upright.

"Don't do it right now," Theo said softly. "Slughorn's memory is nearly fifty years old. It's kept until now. It'll keep until you've finished your essay."

Harry sighed and pulled over a book, where two lizard-like mokes kept shrinking and unshrinking, never quite matching up.

Harry was hiding under his cloak, pacing in front of the seventh floor wall and thinking about books on horcruxes, when he spotted Malfoy approaching with a surly Goyle. Curious, he backed away to see what would happen.

He watched Malfoy walk back and forth, wondering how in the world he had discovered the room. Harry angled himself to see what kind of room it was when he opened it. He only got a glimpse, but it looked like a room filled with junk.

"Dormio."

Goyle slumped to the ground, asleep. Harry went back to pacing, thinking about horcruxes. No door appeared. He tried again with the same result. Lastly, he tried thinking about a room filled with junk. Annoyed, he went down to the kitchens to talk to Dobby.

"Harry Potter! Dobby was hoping to see you!"

"Sorry, it's been a busy year," Harry said, patting Dobby as the elf attempted to pulverize his legs. "How have you been?"

He chatted with Dobby for a while, and finally asked, "Can the Room of Requirement be more than one room at the same time?"

Dobby shook his head. 

"Is there a room with a bunch of junk in it?"

Dobby nodded eagerly. "The Room of Lost Things!"

Harry said his goodbyes to Dobby and made his way back to the seventh floor. He noticed Goyle was gone, and tried the room again. Happily, a door appeared. 

It was pitch black, almost drawing light into it. Harry hesitated before touching the handle, hoping the castle wouldn't have created a dangerous room.

The door silently opened. The room inside was a void. Harry lit his wand, and it barely penetrated the darkness. He took a step in, then another, not noticing that the door had closed behind him. When he turned around to look it was too late.

Harry wanted to curse but he was afraid to speak. He knew better than to walk into a mysterious magical void. He took a slow breath deciding his only option was to move forward. He could find the door the hard way by searching all the walls. If there were any.

He walked for what felt like hours, but it must have been only minutes, when his wand lit something other than nothingness. It was a book, in faded black leather, barely differentiated against the persistent gloom. Harry crouched down next to it, moving his wand closer. Embossed in the leather, faded with time, was the title Secrets of the Darkest Art.

Harry felt a rush of excitement, barely taking the precaution to make sure the book didn't immediately kill him. Once he finished, he touched it lightly, then, emboldened, picked it up.

Whatever it was, the castle wanted this book well hidden. Harry turned around slowly and crept back to where he hoped the door was, finding a wall and moving along it. Once back in the corridor, he hurried to his dormitory. He would worry about whatever it was Malfoy was trying to find later.

“I found the book in our library,” Sirius said, frowning in distaste. “I’m not at all surprised. Why wouldn’t we want to know how to raise an army of inferi?”

“I’ve looked over the ritual,” Theo said, sitting next to Harry. Since finding the section on horcruxes, and understanding the implications of such things existing, of Voldemort having made one, Harry was in a state of shock. Theo had closely observed him as he vacantly moved through the day.

"The sacrifice of a pregnant unicorn," Theo said. "I can't imagine finding one. And the diagram is…explicit."

"It could be anything," Sirius said. "Anything at all. A rock at the bottom of the ocean. And as long as it exists, so does he."

"That's how he survived that night," Theo said. He placed a hand on Harry's head, felt him breathing, the small movements of him being alive.

Theo didn't think the contents of the book had disturbed Harry so much as the enormity of the task. If Voldemort was a more intelligent man, the horcrux would be impossible to find, mundane. But Harry had mentioned the man liked to collect trophies. Something worthy of containing part of the Dark Lord's soul.

"The potion the creator is meant to drink…where would you even find a phoenix egg?"

"Harry would want to know what happens to the phoenix," Theo said, drawing Harry closer. "Did he tell you about the hummingbird we saw in the Time Room?"

Sirius cracked a smile. "He did." He looked down at something. "It says to destroy it the container must be damaged beyond all magical repair."

"Fire," Theo said, looking down at Harry. "He's tried using reparo on ashes and it doesn't work."

"I don't think an incendio would work," Sirius said drily. "Or Harry's wandless fire, whatever that is." 

Sirius paused, then said, "There are some dark fire spells, ones fueled by emotion. I've been reluctant to share the books with Harry, given how easily he can turn into a conflagration, but knowing there are horcruxes involved—knowing they even exist…I'll need to think about how we can train that safely…"

Theo set the mirror down. It was lucky Harry had it with him when Theo tracked him down, blindly wandering the grounds. It was getting dark, though, and Harry would be missed.

"Harry," Theo said. "Look at me."

Harry's eyes moved towards him. It was like talking to a doll. Worse than he had been last year. 

"Please," he said, leaning down to brush his lips. 

Harry gasped, then blinked. "I'm sorry," he said, looking into the gloom of the forest behind him. "I didn't want to deal with it. The prophecy…"

Theo pushed Harry to the ground, flat on his back, holding himself over him. 

Harry's eyes changed with the seasons, Theo noticed, reflecting the deep green of pine needles in the darkest parts of the forest, where snow never touched the soil.

Theo watched Harry's neck as he swallowed nervously, tracing fingers over his warm skin.

"You look like you want to slit my throat," Harry said thickly, slightly dazed.

"There are other things I would prefer to do," Theo said, smiling as Harry's composure shattered, pulling him under.