Felix, Dumble-dumb, and "it itches!"
Harry and Ron followed Hermione through the castle. "You know, this whole potion is a massive plot-hole." Harry pointed out to Ron. "If Moldy wanted to win the war, all he would have to do is drink it."
"Maybe there's restrictions on what the potion can do." Ron frowned. "Your half-blood prince might know." Harry giggled.
"Where do you think I got the idea of how dangerous it is?" He said loudly. Hermione shushed him but kept walking, leading them out of the castle and to the greenhouses. They saw no-one, and were not caught despite it being after curfew.
"What are we doing here?" Harry asked her, before spotting Slughorn by the greenhouses. "Aha! Target spotted!"
"Hello Professor!" Hermione greeted exuberantly. Harry and Ron flinched back, waiting to be given detention and sent back inside, but instead they found themselves being dragged towards Hagrid's hut by Hermione, Slughorn in tow. The witch and potions professor chatted amicably, Hermione constantly bringing Harry into the conversation for some reason. Ron kept sniggering at the uncomfortable expression on Harry's face.
"Yeh heard!" Hagrid wailed when he opened the door. Slughorn, looking very confused, awkwardly tried to comfort a crying Hagrid whilst the three teenagers stared at the dead acromantula.
To Ron and Harry's never-ending amusement, a funeral for Aragog was staged. Hermione was pretending to play some sort of instrument, covering her mouth and humming loudly. Slughorn gave a very awkward speech as he collected some venom from the pincers, and Hagrid just sobbed.
Once back in the hut, Slughorn tearfully told Harry about his mother and a goldfish. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione got there first.
"You know, professor, there is one thing you could do to honour the sacrifice Lily made." She said, patting his arm consolingly. Slughorn sniffed loudly and gave Hermione a pleading look, eyes filled with tears.
"What would that be?"
Hermione sighed. "The memory, sir. The one you gave Dumbledore that you tampered with. Harry needs it so he can save us all from Voldemort." Hermione blinked, as if she'd gotten something wrong. Harry smirked at her. They all used Voldypants and Moldyshorts so much that saying his real name always felt weird.
Slughorn looked at Harry, who tilted his head.
"You really need it? To save us all?" Slughorn asked apprehensively, tears in his eyes.
Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes. At the ripe old age of sixteen without a full education, I totally plan on saving the entirety of Wizarding Britain from the tyrant who is at about sixty years older than me and a homicidal maniac. And your memory is the only thing on this planet that can help me."
Despite the obvious sarcasm, Slughorn nodded sagely.
"Well then, Harry. I must say, you are a remarkable young man. Here." Slughorn raised his wand to his temple and Ron and Harry high-fived under the table as Hermione pocketed the memory, immediately leading Hagrid and Slughorn in a round of singing nursery rhymes.
They made it back to the castle unnoticed and headed straight to the common room. Ginny and Neville were waiting for them, identical expressions of concern on their faces.
"Where've you been?" Neville asked. "It's three hours after curfew!"
"Hey guys!" Hermione greeted cheerfully. "Dumbledore sent us on a top secret mission!" She dissolved into a fit of giggles, leaning on Ron for support.
"Is she drunk?" Ginny raised a brow at Harry and Ron, who laughed.
"Yeah, on liquid luck." Ron said, tapping Hermione on the shoulder. "So, what are we going to do with the memory?" He asked her. Hermione scrunched up her nose.
"Keep it, of course." Hermione said, patting her pocket. "We'll give it to Dumbledore in few weeks."
"Why not now?" Harry asked, flopping onto the sofa in between Neville and Ginny.
Hermione snorted, causing Ron's eyebrows to shoot up at the extremely out of character behaviour. "Ask Felix, I'm just doing what I'm told."
They sat in silence for a while after that. Harry was the one to break it.
"...Hey, Hermione? Whilst Felix is still working, fancy coming to annoy Snape with me?"
"No."
"Shame."
~
Three weeks later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Headmaster's office.
"Ah, yes, well done children!" Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling more than ever. "Very well done! How did you manage to get hold of it so quickly?"
"Felix helped us." Hermione said. Dumbledore frowned.
"You were not supposed to tell anyone else about this, Miss Granger." He said, rather severely.
Hermione bristled. "We didn't! Felix just knew and wanted to help!"
Dumbledore gazed at them thoughtfully. "I don't recall there being a Felix in the school. What is his surname?"
Harry raised a brow. "Why? You aren't going to obliviate him are you?" Dumbledore didn't respond and Harry gasped. "You ARE! Gandalf, that's illegal!"
"Alas, Harry, I would never do such a thing." Harry snickered. "Now, who is Felix?"
"Oh, he's not a Hogwarts student." Ron said airily. "He isn't even a person."
"I see." Dumbledore shook his head and gave up. "Now let's view this memory, shall we? We can discuss Felix more later."
The memory was only two minutes long, and Dumbledore looked at them gravely as soon as they departed. Young Tom Riddle was asking Slughorn about horcruxes, and Slughorn told him exactly what they were and how to make one. Dumbledore definitely didn't choose his professors based on their common sense, Harry thought to himself as he tried to vanish Tom Riddle's nose.
"So, Voldemort has horcruxes." Harry announced as he sat back in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk after exiting the memory. "Didn't we already know that?"
"Yes, but we didn't know how many, Harry." Dumbledore explained, looking grave. "Now we know the intended amount."
"Six." Hermione interjected. "That way his soul would be split into seven."
"Correct." Dumbledore steepled his fingers together and peered at them over his half-moon spectacles. "Now as for what those objects are, I have a few ideas."
"The diary was one, wasn't it?" Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded. "And knowing Moldy, he's probably not gone for, like, a pebble on a beach."
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, you're quite right. I have reason to suspect that he has used some of the founders objects we have viewed in previous memories. Hufflepuff's cup, for example."
"Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's Diadem." Hermione reeled off. "That's four. What else?"
"His snake?" Ron suggested. Everyone stared at him. "What? I'm not just a pretty face you know."
"And the final one, I believe, is another family heirloom. A ring, perhaps. I went to the Gaunt house in the second memory I showed you, and was disappointed to find nothing of great importance. Especially considering the number of wards and protective spells surrounding the house."
Harry frowned. "....weird."
"I did, however, come across a rather large hole in the ground." Dumbledore looked at them all suspiciously. Hermione, Ron and Harry blinked innocently back.
"Well, that will be all for tonight. Should I locate any of the remaining horcruxes, I will send for you immediately."
"What? Why?" Hermione asked. "We wouldn't know the first thing about destroying horcruxes!" Harry stamped on Ron's foot and his smug smirk was quickly replaced by a wince.
Dumbledore inclined his head. "As Harry proved in his second year, basilisk venom ought to do the trick. I do believe some still remains on the sword of Gryffindor."
"Yeah, what happened to that?" Harry asked. "Monty told me it belonged to me since I was the one who pulled it out of his butt!" Dumbledore raised a brow.
"Monty?" He inquired, looking faintly disturbed at Harry's graphic description.
"Yeah, the hat. Obviously." Hermione snickered as Harry remained completely deadpan.
Dumbledore paused. "The Sorting Hat is called Monty?"
"Yes. Surely you of all people should know that?" Harry said accusingly. Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Well, should I locate a horcrux, I would like for you three to accompany me. As you know, there is someone at Hogwarts who wishes to see me dead, and should that happen I will need you to continue finding the horcruxes and end this war for good."
Harry whistled. "That's a lot of pressure to put on three teenagers, Headmaster. But I'm game, it sounds dangerous and incredibly thrilling! Do you think we'll see Moldy and his emo pals?"
"I should hope not." Hermione said crossly. "You are such an adrenaline junkie, Harry. But sure, if Harry's doing it I'll come along too, else he'll probably accidentally kill himself." Ron snorted at Harry's offended pout.
"I won't be left out." Ron said stubbornly. "I'm in."
Dumbledore clapped once. "Excellent! Now, it is getting rather late. You should all head to bed."
~
"Hermione?"
"No."
"Just one more-"
"No."
"Please can you-"
"I said no, Harry, stop asking me!" Hermione snapped, closing her book and giving Harry her best teacher glare.
"But it itches!" He whined, wriggling his back against his bedframe in the hospital wing. "And I can't reach the bit between my shoulders! And whatever you did earlier stopped the burning immediately!"
"I gave you healing paste, Harry, that can only be applied once a day. Unless you want your skin to peel off?"
"Yes! If this itching doesn't stop Mione I'm going to die, do you hear me? DIE!"
Draco snorted. "Harry Potter - defeater of king serpents, friend of dragons, survivor of lethal snake bites and killing curses, the bane of Moldyshort's existence - has been thwarted by chickenpox."
Harry pouted at the blonde and stuck his tongue out at a laughing Daphne and Ron. "Don't be mean, I bet you've never had chickenpox either. You do realise how contagious they are, right?"
Draco paled. "What? Why didn't you say so before? I'm out of here!"
"Do not worry, Mr Malfoy, you will all have had your magical shots against muggle illnesses such as chickenpox. However, I will need to keep you all in isolation until Mr Potter is in a clean bill of health. Just a precaution." Madame Pomfrey reassured him. Draco sighed in obvious relief.
"You mean we all have to stay in the same room as Harry?" Ron asked in horror. "Do you know how unbearable he is when he's sick, Madame Pomfrey?"
"Obviously I do, Mr Weasley, he practically lives in my hospital wing." Madame Pomfrey frowned. Harry was too itchy to be offended.
"Oh no." Daphne shook her head. "You're talking about 'injured but too stubborn to admit it' Harry. We're talking about sick Harry."
"Last easter when he got that flu virus? Nightmare." Susan said solemnly. "I think I had to sing some song about kittens at least four thousand times."
"Oh, good idea!" Harry practically beamed at Susan. "That might distract me from the itching."
"No." Susan said firmly. "I might have agreed to break you out of Azkaban if the need ever arises, Potter, but I will not sing you to sleep." She paused. "With witnesses." She added as an afterthought, most likely due to the downright pitiful expression on Harry's face.
The next seven days were pure torture for everyone, even if Harry was the one with a nasty muggle sickness that only affected you worse if you got it later on in life.
Harry lay dramatically on his bed in the room adjacent to the hospital wing, where he and his friends were in isolation. Draco wiped the sweat from his brow, Daphne fetched him glass after glass of water, Ron wrote down everything he said at Harry's request, just in case they were Harry's last words. By day two, Susan was no longer embarrassed about singing in front of the others and she and Daphne often had fun trying to harmonize.
Hermione applied the salve to Harry's back each day, but made Harry do the rest with a stern glare. She refused to give it to him more than once and was forced to come up with more and more creative ways to distract him from the itching.
Eventually, Neville and Draco got fed up and wrapped Harry's hands in socks and bandages, then tied them to the bedframe. Ron, whose hand was hurting by day five of endless scribing, gagged him.
Madame Pomfrey didn't even scold them. She'd seen another side to Harry Potter that week and never wanted to see it again.
When they were finally released, Harry's friends made a pact - next time they got sick and Harry wasn't, they were going to make him pay.