Chapter 5
Harry’s head was pounding. He was vaguely aware that he was lying in his bed and there was someone next to him, breathing steadily and deeply. In and out. In and out. In and out. One hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. The Gryffindor shifted, immediately wishing he hadn’t, nausea rising from his stomach up his throat, fogging his brain along with the pain. The hand on his shoulder suddenly tensed, grabbing him, maneuvering him sideways until his head was hanging off the bed above a bucket and the nausea took over.
“Urgh.”
His mouth tasted vile and his whole body was hurting, shaking, revolting against the contents in his stomach.
“Just let it out,” Remus’ voice said from behind him, “I’ll get you a potion.” The body, Remus’ body, shifted, moved, climbed off the bed and Harry could hear his door opening and voices outside talking.
“He awake?” That was Sirius.
“Yes.”
“Hangover?”
“I imagine so.”
Another wave of sickness droned out Sirius’ response while Harry panted into the bucket.
“Harry.” Remus must have come back in, his voice gentle but still too loud. “Here.” A glass of water was pushed into his hand and Harry used it to wash out his mouth. “Now drink this, it’ll help.” Whatever it was tasted horrible, but the effect was immediate – as if all the alcohol was suddenly washed out of his system and the thumbscrews around his brain loosened, leaving Harry feeling only slightly fragile. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Take a shower, we’ll be in the kitchen.”
The hot water helped, clearing the fog in his brain and washing off the remains of the previous night.
He remembered. It was hazy, the taste of Firewhisky clouding the memories, but he remembered and he wished he didn’t.
Ron’s outburst.
Malfoy’s look.
Charlie’s lips against his own.
Fuck.
He just hoped that Charlie hadn’t told everyone about what had happened.
With a heavy sigh and the resolve to never drink again, Harry shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, pointedly not looking into the mirror as he got dressed. One piece of clothing at a time. He was stalling, he knew, but the last thing he wanted was to go out there and see the anger and disappointment on Sirius’ and Remus’ faces.
Well, he thought when there was no excuse to stay in the bathroom any longer, here goes nothing…
There was no anger. There was no disappointment. In fact, it looked like any other morning, with Remus standing at the stove, making breakfast, Sirius drinking coffee, and Dra – Malfoy reading a book while his tea was getting cold, and for a moment Harry wondered if they were just going to pretend last night never happened.
And then Sirius spoke up. “Morning, cub. Sit down, breakfast is almost ready and there are presents that want to be opened.” His voice sounded normal enough, cheerful and light, but there was an edge to it, a promise, and his eyes didn’t quite reach the brightness they usually would. “Then we’ll have a talk,” he added.
Taking another deep breath, Harry joined the table, resigning himself to his fate.
Breakfast was pleasant enough, the pancakes tasting as good as ever even if Harry’s stomach still felt a bit delicate and once they were done they migrated towards the tree standing in the corner next to the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley had knitted him another sweater, this one with a Golden Snitch on the front, and Harry was overcome by another wave of guilt as he put it on, his smile feeling slightly forced. Fred and George had sent a box of their Wizard Wheezes, and Hermione a book on Defence Spells. There was no present from Ron.
“This one’s from us,” Remus said, handing him a neatly wrapped package. Harry took it, his hands trembling slightly as he loosened the paper, revealing a Gryffindor-red box, inside a collection of letters and photos, two wands, a golden necklace with a flower pendant, and an old Snitch.
“It’s everything we could find of your parents,” Sirius explained, a wistful look in his eyes, “James gave that necklace to Lily for their first anniversary.”
Harry looked back down at the box, his eyes feeling suspiciously wet. “Thank you.”
There was one more present with his name on it. Something slim and bendy. Trying hard not to frown Harry opened the gift, finding a brown leather bracelet of a snake eating its own tale.
“It’s an Ouroboros,” Malfoy explained from where he was sitting on the couch. Harry looked up at the blond, noting the tense line of his shoulders and the light blush on his cheeks. “It represents eternity. The circle of Life. The spellwork is very complex and enhances the owner’s magic. It works similarly to a wand, channelling the magic, to increase precision with wandless spells. It also provides protection against weak and basic hexes.”
Harry blinked rapidly, staring at the bracelet. He had no idea what to say, no idea what he could say. A simple ‘thank you’ seemed inadequate, an ‘I forgive you’ too much, too soon, even if he recognized this as what it was – an apology, a peace offering, a token of friendship. Swallowing down the storm of emotions, Harry reached for the last present and wordlessly handed it to Dra – Mal – Draco, not daring to watch as the Slytherin unwrapped it. After much thinking, Harry had decided on a book on Alchemy, knowing about the blond’s fascination with the subject.
There was an awkward moment in which neither boy spoke, too wrapped up in their own gifts and heads, too aware of what they meant, of what they could mean. From the kitchen, Harry could hear the tell-tale sounds of tea being made and when he looked up, neither Remus nor Sirius were anywhere near them but standing by the kettle, obviously giving them some resemblance of privacy. Harry turned his head towards Draco who was already looking at him and, holding his gaze, put on the bracelet, giving the blond a grateful nod.
They spend the rest of the morning lazing on the couch, drinking tea and eating biscuits and by the time lunch rolled around, Harry had almost forgotten Sirius had said they’d talk. Of course, he was reminded again when Remus gave him a subtle look and nodded at the door. Harry was a bit relieved that it was Remus, not Sirius, he would be having this conversation with. Remus was calmer, more patient, and he always chose his words carefully, unlike Sirius who tended to be impulsive and rash. Still, he couldn’t quite suppress the nervous shake of his hands as he and the professor walked through the almost abandoned streets of London towards Soho Square Gardens.
“I’m not angry,” Remus said after a while, “I’m not disappointed. And neither is Sirius.” Then, what are you? Harry wanted to ask but refrained. Maybe it was better to wait and listen what Remus had to say. “But we’re worried, Harry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” Remus let out a sigh. He sounded tired and Harry realised with a jolt that tonight was a full-moon. “But I don’t need you to apologise, I just need you to understand, really understand, that you’re not alone.”
Harry thought he knew what Remus meant. There were people he could talk to, people that would listen and help if he wanted them to, people that cared.
They walked up to a bench covered in a sheen of frost and Remus waved his hand, when they sat down, the bench was dry and warm.
“I kissed Charlie,” Harry found himself saying, almost glad to have it out there in the open, to share it with someone who would hopefully understand.
“Did you like it?” Remus asked, his voice perfectly calm and collected.
“Yeah,” Harry answered hoarsely, thinking back to the previous night. It hadn’t been much and it hadn’t been long but it still made him feel something he hadn’t felt before. “I think I fancy blokes.”
Next to him, Remus nodded. “Thank you for telling me, Harry.”
“I think I fancy Draco.” The name felt foreign on his tongue, something sweet he’d never tasted before.
“Is that what made you get drunk? What Ron said?” Remus asked and Harry nodded.
“How did you – I mean – you and Sirius, how did you…” He couldn’t quite get out the right words, but it seemed Remus understood nevertheless.
“Sirius and I wasted a lot of time on ignoring what we both knew was there,” Remus answered, a hint of sadness and pain carried along with the words, “Sirius was never shy about who he was attracted to and he never made a secret out of the fact that I was one of those people but…he also had…a bit of a reputation, if you will. I was different. Because of my – condition – I was always worried of getting too close to other people, too aware of what could happen if…” If I lost control. Harry heard the words even if Remus hadn’t said them. He had spent a lot of time on researching Werewolves once he’d moved in with one and he knew, even if a Werewolf in human form couldn’t turn anyone, there was still a risk of causing permanent damage. “As far as I knew, there were no feelings involved for Sirius. I was wrong, of course, but I didn’t know that. Not then. It wasn’t until after school that we…got together…in a way…but even then, neither of us ever said the words. I suspected that he felt the same way about me, but I was too afraid to ask. We were at war. We could have died any day. And I felt it safer to not say anything and phantasise about being loved than have that phantasy taken away from me by an uncomfortable truth, or even worse, know that he loved me but lose him to the war.”
“Would it have been worth it? To tell him?” Harry asked carefully.
“Yes.”
They sat in silence for a long moment and, for the first time since the holidays had started, Harry felt like he could breathe freely again. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all. Maybe it would be okay. And even if it wasn’t, he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“There is something else,” Remus said suddenly, “Something Sirius and I found out during the last month.” The Werewolf waited until Harry looked at him, seeing the deep crease between his eyebrows. “It’s about the Horcruxes.”
“What is it?”
“We believe we know how many there are, and we have a theory about what and where they might be.”
“That’s great!” Harry exclaimed, delighted about the news that they final had a fighting chance against Voldemort, except the way Remus looked at him, with deep sorrow, seemed to be saying something else, “What’s wrong?”
“Combined from the memories Tonks and Severus saw in Dumbledore’s office, the research Regulus did before his death, and some information Sirius and I found, we have reason to believe that Voldemort created five Horcruxes before he went after you, his goal, however, was to make six.”
Harry sputtered “Six?”
“Seven is an incredibly powerful number, Harry, and Voldemort is very superstitious in that he pays attention to symbolism.”
“Right,” Harry said. He barely knew anything about Horcruxes but the mere thought of splitting his soul six times…he shuddered.
“He currently has seven,” Remus added.
“What – you mean he made more since he’s come back?”
“One more, yes.”
“But you just said –” Harry blinked. “I don’t understand.”
Remus took a deep, shaky breath, visibly uncomfortable with the subject. “Horcruxes are…unnatural. And I don’t use that word lightly,” he explained, “Avoiding death by splitting your soul…it’s not supposed to be done. It makes the soul fragile, susceptible to further damage, and splitting it more than once…” The Werewolf shook his head. “Harry, when Voldemort went after you and your parents, his soul was already damaged beyond repair or recognition, it was weak. Your mum’s sacrifice made the Killing Curse rebound to hit him, destroying his body. For all intents and purposes he should have died but because of the Horcruxes, he didn’t, however the piece of his soul that was still left…it shattered and found the nearest receptible host to bind itself to.”
The nearest receptible – “Me?” There was something Harry’s mind, something that simply refused to compute the information it had been given. “What are you – you mean I am – me?”
Remus looked like he was in great pain that had nothing to do with his approaching transformation. “Not intentionally. And I doubt Voldemort knows about it.”
“How –” Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself, “How do you know?” he asked, watching the other man closely as he licked his lips.
“It’s what Dumbledore suspects.”
That’s ridiculous, he wanted to say, Dumbledore would have told me. Except he had told him, hadn’t he? Or as good as. Harry could almost see himself standing in McGonagall’s office, sweaty and bloody, holding the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand.
“He told me –” Harry said haltingly, “He told me in second year that Voldemort transferred some of his powers onto me.”
Had he already known then? Had he suspected that Harry was harbouring a part of Voldemort’s soul?
“There’s a way to…relocate…the soul fragment to a different host.”
“Can’t we just destroy it?”
Remus shook his head. “Destroying the Horcrux means destroying the host.”
“So,” Harry said slowly, “We get it out and then kill it?” Remus nodded. “How?”
“There is not much that can destroy a Horcrux, the most reliable way, it seems, is Basilisk venom, but how we will get that…”
“The school,” Harry answered, and Remus looked at him quizzically, “The Chamber of Secrets.” He half expected Remus to ask questions, to demand explanations, but nothing came, just a solemn nod.
“Good,” he said, “That’s good.”
“What about the other six?” Harry asked, remembering Remus had said they knew what and where the others were as well.
“You destroyed the first one already,” Remus answered, putting up a singular finger, “Dumbledore destroyed another one.” Another finger went up. “We know where Kreature put the one that Regulus stole.” A third finger. “Then there’s one in the Lestrange Vault.” Finger number four. “One where we think we know what it is but not where. And Nagini.” The last two, Remus counted off in one go, holding up two hands and six fingers, while Harry frowned.
“Nagini – his snake?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know all this?”
Remus stood up from the bench and beckoned for Harry to do the same. “As I said earlier, creating a Horcrux is unnatural,” he began to explain as they started making their way back home, “It’s deep, dark magic, and it leaves behind a trace. Sirius and I managed to find a way to follow that trace.”
Harry stopped in his tracks, staring at his teacher and guardian. “That’s brilliant!” he blurted out, and maybe he was just imagining it, but it almost looked like Remus was blushing at the compliment.
“Thank you, Harry,” he mumbled into the collar of his jacket, “We should get back. It’s nearly time for me to go to Grimmault Place.”
Living with the knowledge that a piece of Voldemort’s soul was bound to him was, in the grand scheme of things, surprisingly easy. Not much had changed, after all, except that now he knew. Sirius and Remus spent more time than usual together – probably plotting a break-in of Gringotts or the assassination of Nagini, Harry thought – always making sure that Harry had no way of eavesdropping, and no amount of begging, pleading, or swearing seemed to change their minds.
“If you really want to help,” Sirius had told him after a particularly great effort on Harry’s part to make them reconsider, “You go back to Hogwarts, you stay out of trouble, and you get us some Basilisk teeth.” Going back to the Chamber of Secrets was not exactly on top of the list of things Harry wanted to do but, at the same time, it was something that was not nothing and, in Harry’s books, that was everything.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Draco had said once they were on the train back to Hogwarts, “They want you to live. Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore want you to die. It’s easy.” And then the compartment door had opened, and Hermione had walked in, grumbling under her breath about Ron and Lavender snogging on the Platform, and Harry had been left to wonder how in Merlin’s name Draco even knew about that – the answer to that question, of course, was easy to find.
“Sirius told me while you were out with Remus. He wanted to know if I had any idea where mother and Severus are.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” – Harry hated that bloody smirk. Harry didn’t think he’d survive not seeing it again.
The months went on and life returned to a new normal. Ron was ignoring him, as was Ginny for some reason who had broken up with Dean just after the Christmas break, Harry, in turn, was ignoring Dumbledore’s increasing messages to come to his office for another lesson, and Hermione was introduced to the old Potions classroom.
By April, Filch was out of the Hospital Wing, and Remus told him that two more Horcruxes were destroyed, leaving two more to go, and Harry.
“We contacted Severus,” he told Harry over a cup of tea. It was a Sunday and the sun had managed to fight through the clouds, shining brightly through the windows into the professor’s office. “He was not pleased but he understands the severity of the situation.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Harry asked, not particularly keen on seeing Snape again.
“It takes Dark magic to create a Horcrux, Harry,” Remus explained, “It also takes Dark magic to transfer it to another vessel. Neither Sirius nor I are capable of that, Severus on the other hand…” He let out a sigh. “When we were in school, he was quite adept at creating his own curses and hexes. He’s always been fascinated by the Dark Arts.”
Harry had a great deal of things to say about that but refrained. The thought if Snape helping him was weird but he’d take it if it meant destroying another piece of Voldemort’s soul. Speaking of which –
“Do you have any idea where the last one could be?” he asked, “You said you know what it is…”
“We think we know what it is,” Remus corrected him.
“Maybe I can help.” The older man frowned slightly at Harry’s suggestion and he quickly backpaddled, “I know I’m not supposed to get involved, but –”
“No, no, you’re right,” Remus interrupted him, looking contemplative, “Maybe you can help.” He paused and no matter how much Harry wanted to press, he didn’t, giving Remus the time to have his thoughts and make up his mind. “Voldemort likes symbolism,” Remus said slowly, “Tradition. He follows his own rules. One of his Horcruxes, the one Regulus stole, was the locket of Salazar Slytherin –” Harry could feel his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “—another one was a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.”
“You think he used something of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?” Harry asked.
“Ravenclaw, I think,” said Remus, pulling out a dusty, old book from under his desk, “There is a legend about Rowena Ravenclaw and her daughter. She ran away. After Rowena fell ill, she sent out a man who was in love with her daughter to find her and bring her back, the man did find her but killed her in a fit of rage before taking his own life and Rowena is said to have died of a broken heart. Now, Rowena Ravenclaw had a diadem, one that grants wisdom to whoever wears it and it has been lost for centuries…”
“You think he found it?” Harry asked incredulously, “Voldemort found the Diadem and turned it into a Horcrux?”
Remus nodded. “Yes,” he said, “Following the Trace, one Horcrux was created in Albania. According to the legend, that’s where Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena’s daughter, died. The Trace leads back here, to Britain, in fact…it leads to Hogwarts.”
Harry sputtered. “What – you mean it’s here, in the castle?”
“Yes.”
“Then, why can’t you find it?”
“I don’t know.”
Harry frowned. Was there a place in Hogwarts that was so well hidden it even concealed Traces of Dark Magic? A place, maybe, that only Voldemort knew about? Harry’s thoughts immediately turned towards the Chamber – Except Myrtle would have noticed, wouldn’t she? If he had returned to hide the Horcrux there – Somewhere else, then, maybe? Hogwarts was huge, after all, with corners and corridors that hadn’t been used in years and years, forgotten and abandoned.
Still deep in thoughts, Harry returned to the Gryffindor Tower. Ron was sitting by the fireplace chatting to Seamus and not even noticing Harry as he walked past to their dorm.
Maybe the Map will help, he thought as he pulled out the piece old parchment from under his pillow, tapping it with his wand.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to good.”
The castle and its grounds were buzzing with life as usual. Several students seemed to be taking advantage of the good weather and decided to spend the day outside. Harry spotted Ernie McMillan and Michael Corner sitting by the lake, the Creevey brothers, Ginny and Luna near Hagrid’s hut, talking to the half-Giant. Harry could also see the dot labelled ‘Hermione Granger’ in the library. Two names he didn’t recognize where crammed into a broom cupboard on the third floor, Crabbe, and Goyle were lurking on the seventh floor, Neville was in professor Sprout’s office, Katie was –
Hang on.
Harry scanned the Map once more – Crabbe and Goyle are lurking on the seventh floor – and frowned. They didn’t seem to be doing much of anything except stand there, at opposite ends of the corridor.
What are you up to? Harry thought, staring at the two names but nothing happened, nothing changed, nothing explained two of dumbest people Harry had ever met standing in a hallway on a perfectly fine Sunday an hour before lunch.
“I think Crabbe and Goyle are up to something,” he announced to his new group of friends a few days later. Five pairs of eyes turned towards him, all in varying degrees of disbelief.
“Let me recap that sentence,” Blaise – and Harry really had no idea when he had become Blaise instead of Zabini – said slowly, “You think Crabbe and Goyle are up to something?”
“I saw them on the seventh floor, just…standing there,” Harry said. It wasn’t a lie, technically.
“Was Theo there?” Draco asked.
“Who?”
“Theodore Nott.”
Harry shook his head. “I didn’t see him. Why?”
It was Pansy that answered, “They’ve been spending a lot of time together this year.”
“Greg’s and Vince’s fathers didn’t approve of my company after I…left,” Draco added, “Theo on the other hand, well…”
Harry nodded. He understood what was being said – Nott’s father was a Death Eater, as were Grabbe’s and Goyle’s. It only made sense that they would spend time together now that Voldemort was gaining power. Still…
“What were they doing there, then?” Harry asked no one in particular. It was a useless question of course. No one knew why they were there, and it also seemed that no one particularly cared.
“I know it’s your thing to stick your nose into other people’s businesses,” Draco told him, “But I don’t fancy having mine cut off.”
Is he…scared? Harry wondered. It would make sense, of course, out of all of them Draco probably knew best what the Death Eaters were capable of, even more than Harry, since he had grown up with and around them, learning from a small age that independent thought and curiosity had consequences.
“I agree with Draco,” Hermione said, “You should let this go, Harry. Concentrate on your studies.”
And that, as they say, was that.
By the end of May, Harry had run out of places to look for Ravenclaw’s Diadem. It seemed impossible. There was nothing in the Chamber, not that he had expected it to be but he had still checked, nothing in the various secret passageways and staircases, or in the Dungeons.
“You want to do what?” Draco asked shocked.
“I want to search the Slytherin Common Room and dorms.”
“You’re insane, Potter.” There was a certain fondness to the insult, one that had been there for weeks now, maybe even months, and Harry had to fight very hard against the blush creeping up his neck. “I’m not letting you in there again.”
Wait, what? “Again? I’ve never been –”
“Second year, Christmas break,” Draco cut him off, looking both incredibly smug and incredibly annoyed, “Yes, I know about that. It wasn’t too hard to work out after talking to Greg and Vince, although I must admit that I was very impressed. Brewing Polyjuice Potion at the age of twelve is…” he paused, clearly looking for the right word and Harry grinned.
“Impressive?” he suggested, earning himself a half-hearted glare from the blond.
“What are you looking for?” Draco asked eventually, clearly trying to move on from his temporary inarticulateness.
“Rowena Ravenclaw’s Lost Diadem.”
“Of course, you are,” said Draco as if it was no surprise whatsoever, “And you suspect it to be in the Slytherin Common Room because…?”
Harry grimaced. “I can’t tell you.” I wish I could.
“You think it’s a Horcrux, don’t you?”
Draco’s question made Harry freeze “You know about that as well?” he asked rather pointlessly if the blond’s eyeroll was anything to go by, “How?”
“Sirius, remember?”
“Right.” Frankly, Harry hadn’t thought his godfather had gone into that much detail when talking to Draco during Harry’s and Remus’ heart-to-heart.
“The Lost Diadem is lost, Potter,” the Slytherin went on, “That’s the point. No one knows where it is that should be comprehensible even for you.”
“I know what lost means, Malfoy,” Harry groaned, “Except it’s not. It’s in the Castle.”
This time, it was Draco’s turn to pause and blink. “How do you know?”
“Remus. Something about Dark Magic and Traces…”
“Eloquent as ever, I see.” Draco rolled his eyes again and shook his head.
“Where would you hide something if you didn’t want it to ever be found?” The question wasn’t really directed at Draco as Harry muttered it under his breath, wrecking his head over places he hadn’t thought of before.
“The Room of Hidden Things.”
Harry blinked, staring at Draco. “The what?” he asked.
“The Room of Hidden Things,” Draco repeated, clearer this time, slower, “On the seventh floor. All Slytherin Prefects know about it.”
The Room of Requirements. Of course.
It was so obvious and so brilliant, Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. They had used the room last year for their DA meetings after all and, as it was, it seemed to be unplottable and powerful enough to hide dark magical objects. Probably.
“Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Without waiting for the Slytherin, Harry had already hurried down the hallway towards the staircase, vaguely hearing Draco’s grumbling and swearing behind him, following him. The corridor to the Room of Requirements was empty, Harry was relieved to see, as started walking up and down, wishing for the Room of Hidden Things, as Draco had called it.
“How do you –” he started as he pushed open the door but interrupted himself when he saw what lay before him. The room was massive. Piles upon piles of objects of all kinds were building a maze of corridors – furniture, books, bottles, cages, and things Harry couldn’t even name, stacked up high to the ceiling.
“I know,” Draco said next to him, closing the door, “It will take a while until we find something in here.”
They decided to split up, combing the room row for row to look for the Diadem, getting nearly lost in sheer vastness of the room, only to find each other again in a dark corner between an old cabinet and an even older bookcase.
“Any luck?” Harry asked, squinting against the half-light.
Draco shook his head. “No,” he said, “Are you sure it’s –” He stopped dead, looking at something past Harry.
“What?” Harry asked, turning around but there was nothing there. “What is it?”
Draco nodded his chin at something, stepping past Harry towards an array of what looked like tinted and tainted jewelry. “Where do you hide a needle?” he muttered, crouching down in front of the pile.
“What?” Draco didn’t answer but even with his back turned to Harry, he could almost see the eyeroll, and that’s when it clicked. “What, you mean it’s in there?” he asked, joining the Slytherin. It would be the perfect hiding spot, Harry mused, no one would ever look for it here. Reaching out a hand, Harry was just about to rifle through the pile of metal when Draco stopped him.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, holding tightly onto Harry’s arm.
“I was gonna –” Harry started but was interrupted by Draco’s sigh. The blond had his eyes closed when he looked over at him.
“Harry, a Horcrux is an incredibly powerful, incredibly dark object. You do not simply touch incredibly powerful, incredibly dark objects.”
The blond’s words were followed by a long moment of silence in which Harry couldn’t do anything but stare and look and see. The dust was dancing in sunbeams that shouldn’t even be there, mountains of old and hidden things were throwing grotesque shadows all around them, and strands of Draco’s hair were falling into his face – he was beautiful.
“What?”
“You just called me Harry.”
“Yes. You’ve been slipping up and calling me Draco for weeks now, I thought I’d return the favour.” And there was that damn smirk again. Not malicious but sharp, teasing, knowing. It was a promise and a question and all Harry had to do was answer – “Now do you or do you not want get the Horcrux?”
The Gryffindor blinked and then nodded, mentally slapping himself upside the head.
Not the time, he chided himself.
Apparently, the way to retrieve an incredibly powerful, incredibly dark object from a pile of rubbish was with great caution, greater patience, and the greatest amount of swearing-under-ones-breath Harry had ever heard in his entire life. It worked.
He wasn’t sure how long they had been in the Room of Hidden Things but it must have been a great while because when they finally came out, dinner seemed to already be over and Theodore Nott all but ran into them on the staircase, two little girls close on his heel.
“I do not want to know,” Draco muttered. He was holding a wooden box in his arms, Diadem securely hidden inside, as they walked to Remus’ office. Harry tended to disagree – he very much would have liked to know why exactly Nott was walking around with two first years by the looks of it but, as it was, they had more important things to think about at the moment, such as, for instance, getting rid of a part of Voldemort’s soul, which left them with only Nagini and Harry himself to worry about.
“Severus will be here soon,” Remus promised him, just before sending Harry and Draco to return to their respective dormitories. For Harry, soon couldn’t come quick enough.