Your comments about all the fluff of last chapter was really heartwarming :) Thanks so much.

Enjoy!

Chapter 63 – Bring back what we've forgot

In a flash of blue, Harry arrived at his godfather's house, on the exact spot where he'd left earlier: the corridor in front of his bedroom. He'd chosen to Portkey from there because it was one of the few places in the house with absolutely no portraits around, nor any that he would have needed to pass by. He'd thought of the en-suite bathroom before, but had realised that the door was in full view of Nigellus and it would be odd if Harry would suddenly emerge from there after hours if the portrait was hanging out here. He never knew when the old Black would appear or how long he'd stay.

Before going to search out his godfather, Harry quickly went into the room and let himself fall on the bed, arms outstretched. His scar was still burning pleasantly, though he did not know if it was only imagination or a physical reaction of the curse scar. It would be slightly strange if it was the latter as it didn't give him trouble anymore since Voldemort's resurrection, but the former meant admitting just how vividly he could still recall that brief moment when the Dark Lord had placed his lips…

Harry groaned miserably, covering his burning face with one arm. Life was unfair, he decided. Hermione and Viktor had found each other after like two months after the girl had caught Viktor's interest, and Ginny seemed to have no problems either with finding dates. Even Fred had gotten together with Angelina simply by asking her to go to the Yule Ball. Yet after more than a year of dedicating attention to Voldemort, having a three-time magical connection and what felt like a hundred deep talks when both awake and asleep, they were friends.

Not that Harry wasn't also grateful for that, only a couple of months ago he'd thought that Voldemort would never move beyond being his Lord and that any feelings he had were doomed to fail. Only after Samhain had he realised that maybe he stood a chance. Still, it was frustrating how difficult all of this was. It didn't help that Voldemort was right: he did have other, more important matters to focus on now. Both of them did.

Slowly, Harry got up again, checked to see if Nigellus wasn't there and, after affirming that, started changing his clothes into something a bit more comfortable than the robes he'd been wearing. Although he'd basically spent the entire first summer at Riddle house in Muggle clothing, the teen usually changed to robes when going to meet Voldemort if he wasn't already wearing any. The Dark Lord hadn't asked him to, but it felt odd not to. Finally in a shirt and jeans, Harry exited his bedroom and went down to see if he could find his godfather.

''Sirius?'' he asked upon opening every door, finally noticing the man when getting to the living room in the back of the house, where Sirius was just finishing breakfast and reading the Daily Prophet. Harry wondered how it was even being delivered here with the Fidelius Charm active. Did one of the other Order members bring Sirius a copy? ''Sirius!'' he said once again as it appeared that the other hadn't heard him before.

Upon seeing Harry, the man made a comical expression and absentmindedly dropped his toast. ''Kiddo, you're back…'' Sirius managed to say, in a strange tone that Harry could not really place.

Harry scratched his head and asked: ''I did say I'd return after breakfast. Are you okay? You're acting… strange.'' Then, he grew suddenly very worried. ''It's not any after-effect of the ritual, is it?'' he said, rushing to Sirius' side. ''Do you have any pains? Dizziness? Magical oddities?''

His godfather held up his hands. ''Whoa whoa, no, nothing like that. It's just… Merlin, I've been debating for hours how I'm going to break this topic…'' he frowned and his expression turned to tortured. ''Yesterday after you left the Burrow, I had a brief talk with Ron. He insinuated… No, I'm going about this wrong,'' the man muttered. He gave Harry a stern look. ''There has been much going on regarding you that I knew hardly anything about. I am grateful how forward you've been to me about it all and don't want you to suddenly think I'm some sort of control-freak over this.''

''Just tell me,'' Harry pleaded. ''Did I do anything wrong?''

To his relief, Sirius shook his head. ''Not exactly, I think. Let me ask you like this: did you make up a story of going to see your crush to get your friends off your back about whom you were really visiting or was there more to your insistence on celebrating his birthday than I knew about?''

Harry felt like a stone had been dropped in his stomach as he stared at his godfather's serious face. He attempted to speak, to laugh it off and tell Sirius that of course it was a little white lie that he'd told his friends to not get them to probe deeper into where he'd really gone, but he couldn't. After opening up to his godfather so much, after telling him pretty much the full truth apart from this one little detail, he could not directly lie to Sirius' face, even if it looked like that was what the man would prefer.

''Ron told the truth,'' he spoke softly, his face growing hot again at his open admittance. ''I'm not sure if I'd call him my crush, because that sounds kind of strange, but I do have… feelings for him.''

''By Merlin's Kneazle-strangling beard!'' Sirius whispered, staring at Harry like he was insane. ''Why? He is… he is…'' the other's mouth moved, but no words made it out. In the end, Sirius quickly pulled his wand and cast a silencing spell against any potential listeners.

''Complicated,'' Harry grinned wryly. ''That is both to complete your sentence and in answer to your question.''

''But this is… insane! He is insane!'' Sirius burst out. Whatever control the other had mustered up before faded away completely. ''Harry, you can't actually like him!'' he spoke, aghast.

Harry tried not to be too hurt at the words, knowing where his godfather was coming from. He'd have told anyone else the same a short time ago. He'd tried to tell himself so too. ''I didn't choose this, Sirius. It just… happened.'' He sighed wistfully. ''I can't describe to you in words how much he's come to mean to me and even when times are difficult and he's absolutely impossible, I keep coming back, trying to improve the situation. And it works, that is the best part about it. He's willing to admit to mistakes and learn from it and be almost considerate, all things that I'd never thought possible before meeting him.''

''It does not change all that he's done,'' Sirius argued.

The teen nodded solemnly. ''I know, but you said that as well when it came to me following Voldemort. I would never have done that if I could not forgive already. There are greater powers at work, and there is no perfect option, no shining unproblematic alternative to what he offers the world. Although I will never forget how harmful he can be, I am willing to excuse it. Just like others can excuse all the crap the Ministry does, or like you excuse what Dumbledore put you through. I don't see why I should suddenly hold a grudge again when it comes to getting closer to him. I also don't want to keep fighting what I feel.''

''I don't approve. This has nothing to do with politics anymore Harry. Being the best choice for this country does not mean that he's the best choice for you. Only a few days ago you admitted that he is abusive! He tortured you, held you as a prisoner before, invaded your mind's privacy and put you in a deadly tournament! Why would you think that he'd be a good partner? You complained to me about his attitude!'' Sirius spoke, growing angrier and louder with each word. Harry suspected that Sirius had flown in a rage as soon as he'd heard that info from Ron, and only calmed down after trying to convince himself that it might have been a ruse. That rage was showing now again.

Harry released a frustrated sigh. ''Right after that conversation, we talked, and then talked more. It's hard to explain Sirius. We partially share minds and magic, which affects us both. It might make me react in ways that don't really sound logical to you, but it is how it is. I am convinced that it won't happen again, we've found a new, more comfortable dynamic that won't leave me defenceless again.'' Sirius scoffed at that. ''I mean it. He is not my Lord anymore, for one. It greatly levelled out our relationship even in the short time after he agreed to it.''

''He agreed to lose you as a follower?'' Sirius asked, confused, anger slipping a bit again. ''When did this happen?''

''Honestly, only at the Yule celebration,'' the teen admitted.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. ''Three days ago,'' he commented, unimpressed. ''That is not enough time to determine whether this changed behaviour is permanent or not. It might be a ploy. He's still a skilled Legilimens.''

Harry shook his head. ''No Legilimency or Occlumency should be able to twist what I can feel from him. He can shut me out if he wants to but that's it. As strange as it may sound, in the past few days he's made such improvements and showed a side that I haven't seen before. Look, I know that you feel protective of me, but you don't need to worry. Voldemort made it quite clear that he's not willing to get involved with me like this for now. I won't visit him again this week and afterwards I'll be at Hogwarts again.'' Saying that caused his heart to clench painfully in his chest. He wouldn't see the man for many months… Harry breathed in deeply. ''So don't make more out of this than it is. It will still be my choice one way or the other. You can't change my mind.''

Sirius rubbed his face tiredly. ''Even so, as much as you might not want to hear this, the chance that he'll react positively is small,'' he reasoned, possibly more to persuade himself than Harry. ''It's rumoured that he tried erasing his own emotions first of all. Secondly, there's a large chance that he's straight. And he's basically a… a teacher to you, right? You have to brace yourself for those very real possibilities.''

''Oh, errr…'' Harry said, not really comfortable discussing this with Sirius. While he appreciated that his godfather was trying to shield Harry from heartbreak, the conversation he'd shared with Voldemort this very morning had left no doubts about the Dark Lord being willing to try eventually. ''Hekissedme,'' he blurted out, stumbling over his own tongue. Trying to look guilty failed miserably as a lunatic smile threatened to creep on his face each time Harry moved his mouth. Telling a worried Sirius this fact was not the smartest move, but who else could he confide in? If it had been up to Harry, he'd be shouting this news from the rooftops as he felt so excited about it.

Sirius looked as if his world just collapsed, so Harry tried to quickly clarify: ''On my scar! It was… it was only a kiss on the forehead.''

''I'm going to rip the bastard's tongue out,'' Sirius hissed in a murderous tone, eyes all steel and ice.

''Or you would, if you weren't bound by a contract to not only be silent, but also non-hostile towards me, him and anyone on his side,'' Harry helpfully reminded his godfather. He didn't want Sirius to die again over a stupid, rash move.

A bit of Sirius' determination waned. ''You sound like James when I told him that dating Evans was going to be the end of the marauders as we knew it. Then too, I felt like life as I knew it had ended, my best friend taken away.'' Sirius turned his head and stared at a few dusty pictures in a dark corner that Harry hadn't noticed before, of a group of people. ''Naturally, this is a lot more to take in than James getting a girlfriend, but back then it turned out that while I was right, James was much happier. I'll try to remember that even if you and him end up…'' he broke off and grimaced again. ''I'm not here to tell you how to live your life or act like a replacement-parent as I know you don't want or need that. I can only give you my advice. I don't think he deserves you of all people. Be careful. If at any point he reverts back to hurting you… come to me about it, I mean that. No matter at which point in time. I'll be at your side to defend you against friend or foe, even against the Dark Lord himself.''

Harry gave the other a scrutinising glance. ''That's it?'' he asked in astonishment. ''I don't have to physically hold you back from storming out there? You're not going to forbid me from ever seeing him again?''

Sirius smiled tightly. ''I want to do both of those things and had I caught you last evening before you left, I might have. Although I might be shooting myself in the foot with admitting this, leaving me to worry about you all night gave me the opportunity to cool off and think. You made perfectly clear that I will lose you if I'm not on your side, Harry. Maybe not in so many words, but I know the consequences of turning into a raging parent, trying to do what I think is best for you. The last time that I tried to stop you, I ended up nearly killing you. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, I might really be a murderer now. Whatever else happened, I owe him double, for saving your life and bringing me back. That's hard to overlook.''

The words were filled with a deep sorrow and desperation that truly brought Harry to feel immense guilt now. He hadn't thought about how any of his actions or feelings regarding Voldemort would influence Sirius…

''It's not like I hadn't already expected you to in the end fall in love with someone on that side rather than finding someone in the Order or a Muggle, seeing as what cause you support now. I only wasn't prepared for it to be Voldemort himself, kiddo. It's a lot to take in.''

After those words, Sirius picked up his toast again and tried his hardest to concentrate on the Prophet, although Harry noticed that his eyes barely moved, glaring a hole in the paper. The teen sat down at the table as well, not sure what else to do than keep his godfather company. He hadn't expected any of this, not for Sirius to suddenly drop on him that he knew of Harry's affections towards Voldemort, nor for the rather positive reaction he'd gotten. Granted, Sirius absolutely thought that Harry was nuts, that much was obvious. Not being actively opposing was also worth a lot though, and more than what Harry had expected from any of his other friends. Even Barty would probably react worse and try to have a talk with Voldemort that might put the Death Eater in danger. The Dark Lord was not really a person who took criticism well.

When Harry returned to his room, he almost stumbled over Kreacher in the corridor, who threw him a dirty look and scurried away hastily. Upon inquiring about it, Sirius let Harry know that he'd found the elf in the attic yesterday, and the man did not really seem concerned about his servant rummaging about up there. Harry was more uneasy about Kreacher's long disappearance and sudden return, especially when in the coming days, the elf followed orders, smiling strangely and occasionally staring unabashedly at Harry. It appeared that he was in a better mood than before. With Sirius' unwillingness to even consider the other living being in the household, Harry could not really do much else than keeping an eye on Kreacher whenever they happened to cross paths.

Apart from Kreacher's strange behaviour, Harry had thought that the remaining week would be awkward due to possible tension with his godfather, but Sirius appeared determined to make the most of their time together. Between the Order meetings that were being held regularly again after New Year, the man always found time for Harry to engage in conversation, although their topics usually did not touch upon anything related to either political views or personal feelings. They speculated together about Harry's possible Animagus form, Sirius asked about Harry's extracurricular activities and gave a bunch of tips for the D.A. and prank ideas to combat Umbridge. At the end of the week, Harry's head was brimming with new plans to tackle the next term.

The teen was just packing his toiletries when hearing a muffled voice from the cabinet where he'd stuffed the two-way mirror away to hide it from prying eyes and withdraw it more unnoticeably than from his trunk. His heart was beating fast as he opened the cabinet and took the mirror out. Did Voldemort want to see him again after all? It only slowed down slightly when seeing that it was Barty's face that appeared instead.

He cast a quick silencing barrier at the door and held it on eye-height. ''Barty?'' he asked. ''I thought you'd leave the mirror behind during your travel? Is something wrong?''

''I did leave it. My mission was cut short after I had some unfortunate encounters,'' the Death Eater grimaced. ''Honestly, I don't know how to make up for this. I messed up.''

''Hold on, start at the beginning,'' Harry said. ''What happened?''

The blond shrugged with an unhappy expression. ''I was scouting abroad for the next big mission and unexpectedly ran into one of dear father's old contacts. When I am somewhere without access to potions like Polyjuice, I usually rely on the facts that hardly anyone has seen my face for a decade and that I was only known by a few people in Britain anyway. I hadn't thought that anyone would recognise me in bloody Greece of all places. Long story short, I was forced to leave a bloody, messy trail behind and am right now in hiding. I could change enough memories so no-one knows that I specifically killed old Taxiarchis and his bodyguards, but I'm afraid that they may be able to find me nonetheless.''

''They being?'' Harry asked.

''The Greek Ministry of Magic, the British Aurors… maybe even International Task forces if I'm unlucky. The people my father dealt with were not some nobody lowlifes, Evan.''

That really did sound bad. ''What does he say about it?''

''Haven't spoken to our Lord yet,'' Barty sighed. ''He isn't home right now and I only just arrived. I wanted to ask you first what I should do. What if this was it and I'm thrown out? Failure is not looked upon kindly.''

The teen scratched his head at that. Barty came to him for advice? ''Don't do anything rash and stay inside for now. The bubble dimension should protect you and cover any traces of magic. As soon as Voldemort is home, speak to him.'' Considering that the Dark Lord was about to promote Barty to be his right hand, Harry doubted that this mess would be enough to suddenly get Barty kicked out. ''You've done enough to prove your loyalty, he knows that. Try to focus on finding a solution and erasing any trails you might have left rather than worry about your position.''

''Yes… you're right. I should do what is best for our cause anyways, not what's best for me,'' Barty whispered, still looking miserable.

''You've been flawless for over a year, that has to count for something,'' Harry tried to cheer the other up. ''If he becomes unreasonable… tell him to speak to me.''

The blond laughed humourlessly. ''And what do you think you can do? Beg for my life?''

''If that's what it takes,'' he seriously answered. He didn't think it was necessary, but there was not much that he wouldn't do to shield Barty against Voldemort's wrath. Harry was also in a much better position now to bargain if he'd have to. ''In the meantime, try not to get too worked up over it. You're safe where you are now, and I'm sure that Voldemort will be able to handle a couple of Aurors if it comes down to it.''

''You reverted to using his name once again,'' Barty noted, none too happily.

Harry hesitated, not sure if this was the best moment to give Barty an update about his new status regarding Voldemort. After agreeing to be friends, it felt plain wrong to refer to the man as his Lord again, even to others. ''I'm allowed to now,'' he decided to say, not giving away more information. Okay, so Voldemort hadn't explicitly said so, but hadn't corrected Harry either anymore when saying his name instead of using the Dark Lord's preferred title. That was good enough. ''It doesn't matter now. Just trust me when I say that I'm positive about the outcome of this if you simply talk to him.''

''I will. Say, there's no chance that you can Portkey here? You could even bring your godfather, he seemed to like the garden. I know what it's like to be locked up…''

Harry smiled sadly. ''Wish I could. But my Portkey is not linked to the house, it would bring me to Voldemort. And if he's not there, that won't be of any help to you.''

''I see… shame, I realised that I didn't make good on my promise for a snowball fight.''

''True, there was that,'' Harry mused, having almost forgotten about it. ''With all the crazy things that went down this holiday, I don't think there was any time. I'm getting better and better at weather magic though, so maybe we can move it to July,'' he joked to lighten the mood.

Barty didn't really react to it and instead asked: ''Speaking of crazy things, how is the Order handling the escape of Nagini? Did they really buy it?''

Harry shrugged one shoulder. ''It looks like it until now. I mean, apart from believing Sirius, the only alternatives are suspecting him of being a traitor or thinking that the defences on this house were breached. None of those are thoughts that many Order members are willing to have, and certainly won't voice.''

''They were betrayed last time as well, by Pettigrew.''

''Exactly why no-one will start accusing Sirius. If it wasn't for me, he'd be spearheading the Order. Everyone here knows what Sirius went through and thinks that the possibility of him of all members defecting is below zero.''

''I hope you're right.''

''Vance turned up last meeting, by the way. Did Voldemort change his mind?'' Harry hopefully asked.

''I was ordered to keep up the Imperius curse for a good while still so the incidents will not be connected,'' Barty answered, lowering Harry's mood. ''Evan, you know we can't let everyone live. The Order is dangerous and could cost people on our side their lives. Imperius curse or not, as long as they are not out of the picture, Doge and Vance will be sent on missions for the Order and it would be suspicious if they were hesitant about that. They're still a risk to us.''

''Fine,'' Harry agreed irritably. ''I get it. Barty, I really need to go now.'' He couldn't pretend to still pack for hours in here. ''I wish you good luck. Stay safe.''

He quickly stepped into the shower to justify having been in here for such a long time and was glad that he took that precaution when he came out and was met by the mistrustful stare of Phineas Nigellus from the opposite wall. Harry ignored the portrait, pointedly drying his wet hair with a towel. It threw him a dirty look before walking out, presumably to sulk in his main portrait instead. Harry released a small sigh and went back to fetch the mirror, putting it in his trunk before Nigellus would return. Harry really wished that he could rip the portrait off the wall or get a different room. That would only have negative consequences though, and it was also handy to act like the most boring teenager ever in front of Dumbledore's spy.

Would he have to see the headmaster again soon? Harry wasn't sure if he could face Dumbledore without flying off the handle after Nagini's capture and torture. He swallowed heavily at the memory of her thrashing, bleeding body. He could not allow himself to think about it while in the headmaster's presence… it would instantly shift all suspicion on him. Hopefully, the old man was too busy running Hogwarts and holding off the Ministry to pay Harry any mind. He did seem too preoccupied to participate in any Order meetings at least, and didn't show up during the entire rest of the holidays at Grimmauld place.

Tomorrow morning, Harry would have to leave the Dumbledore-free house behind and return to Hogwarts. It was an odd feeling. The first few years, where he'd been stuck at the Dursleys, nothing could have compared to returning to the castle. The more time had passed, the more reluctant he was about going back to school. It would mean being unreachable for Sirius, Voldemort and Barty, plus being stuck again with annoying teachers, homework and upcoming O.W.L.s. He'd rather have another few weeks of holidays and see his friends here instead of at Hogwarts. He had no idea what exactly was awaiting him until the Easter holidays would bring a break again. One could never know what crazy monster would appear next. Sirius' mood had also dropped during the past few days, clearly not looking forward to being left alone again.

To the annoyance of both Sirius and him, there were enough Order members present on the seventh of January to form a majority of people who were against Sirius risking being seen. There was a bit of confusion and discussion about the method of travel at first. Tonks and the Weasleys had shown up early morning to ensure that Harry didn't travel alone, but Tonks wanted them all to take the Knight's bus straight to Hogwarts, whereas Mrs Weasley had already gotten tickets for the Hogwarts Express. Harry put in his two Knuts on the Knight's bus not being his preferred way of transport as he always go sick afterwards, and Ron also said that he'd looked forward to meeting Hermione on the train before they'd arrive at Hogwarts. As there still was enough time left, they decided on going on foot to King's cross, which was only twenty minutes away.

During their goodbye hug, the man pushed a small package in Harry's hand. ''for emergency cases, if you need to talk to me… use this,'' Sirius whispered, then hurriedly stopped Harry from trying to unwrap it. ''It's not… it's not something the others might approve of,'' he muttered. ''Unpack it at Hogwarts. It comes with instructions.'' The scent of leather stung Harry's nose as he was crushed in Sirius' arms for another second before being let go. ''Look after yourself.''

While they pushed their trolleys over the street which were covered in a couple of notice-me-not charms, Harry struck up conversation with his friend to ignore the fact that an Auror was once again watching his every move. With how much had happened, the ludicrous theory of him being possessed by Voldemort had slipped Harry's mind again until now. At least he wouldn't have to deal with that at Hogwarts. He'd managed to convince his friends -with a bit of help from Ginny – that this was highly unlikely as nothing about it added up since he did not have memory gaps or any other symptoms of possession.

''How's your dad doing?'' Harry asked when they'd almost reached King's cross, at which Ron brightened.

''Very well. Completely cured a couple of days ago, but he still stayed home for a bit longer as he was under observation. It really did him good to be home again and have time off while being surrounded by family. At times I did wish that I could have gone to your place again to escape the Twins, but the holiday was fine, I guess.''

''We'll have plenty of time to catch up at Hogwarts,'' Harry replied. They entered the station and he threw a dirty look at a Muggle who was frowning at Hedwig and looked like she was about to protest the presence of an owl. It looked like the charms were wearing off. ''Or during the drive.''

''There isn't too much to catch up on on my part,'' Ron sighed. ''Did chores, played some Quidditch in the backyard, did more chores… I'm sure that your week was more eventful. How did the… erhm, birthday party go?'' the redhead tentatively asked.

Harry felt like it was suddenly very warm and crowded here and pretended not to have heard as the barricade came into view and he sped up. Discussing his love life with Ron was somehow more awkward even than with Sirius. Maybe because Ron looked more uncomfortable than Harry felt when asking the question. ''Maybe Hermione's holiday was exciting,'' he loudly spoke as they exited the barrier and stood in front of the scarlet train. ''I've never gone skiing, I wonder what it's like.''

Once they'd found her on the train, Hermione was more than happy to fill them in on that skiing was Not Fun and almost as dangerous as Quidditch. She showed two bandaged fingers from a collision with a tree and several bruises from a harsh meeting with gravity. ''I really should not have agreed,'' she miserably spoke. ''Mum and dad had the time of their lives though, so I think it was worth it nonetheless. They're both great skiers, a talent I did not inherit. I hope it's possible to visit Madam Pomfrey before dinner, holding cutlery is painful at the moment.''

''Let me see that,'' Harry offered, drawing his wand. By now, a couple of bruises and broken fingers were nothing he was not confident about being able to heal. Hermione hesitated for a moment until Ron reminded her that Harry had healed his own splintered knee. A minute later, she stretched her fingers in amazement.

''You've got to teach healing in one of the D.A. sessions,'' she suggested. ''That will be an incredibly handy skill for everyone there. It's not taught until sixth year, and even then only a few basic charms are covered from what I saw when reading ahead.'' Harry took out the little notebook he used for all D.A. ideas and jotted it down, agreeing with his friend that it could be useful. Besides, it meant that Harry would have some time to look into improving his own healing skills. Voldemort had instructed him on a few additional healing spells when mending Sirius' body, but his repertoire was still not as large as he wished it to be. Careful not to be overheard by other students like Parkinson, they put their heads together and discussed all their new plans for their underground defence club.

The start of second term had not been a very pleasant day for Albus for several years in a row. Last year he'd had to watch two of his students being in danger during the Triwizard tournament, one of whom was a minor. The year before that they'd all been worried about a possible murderer breaching the walls of Hogwarts and the one before that, students were being petrified left and right and the upcoming suspension was already hanging over his head. This year was no different. Like in the past four years, one of the reasons for that was his worry about the child of Lily and James Potter, a worry that changed and grew deeper with time. He'd tried to enjoy the first dinner with all students being back at Hogwarts after the holidays, but had not succeeded very well.

Upon returning to the office, he sought the comfort of talking to his familiar, letting out all worries that he couldn't voice to anyone else.

''I notice that I'm not as sharp as I once was,'' he sighed, staring at the sad, compassionate eyes of his phoenix. ''So much is slipping from my attention and no matter where I turn or how many travels I undertake, I garner no new insights. All is happening at once, yet beyond my grasp. There are dots to connect, I'm sure of it… but how? Where?'' Fawkes let out a sympathising trill, which made a small smile appear on his face. He scratched the feathers just above the tip of Fawkes' beak and the bird closed his eyes in content. A few minutes later, Albus gave Fawkes a last pat on the head, then turned to his Pensieve instead, and to the glass cabinet with rows upon rows of memories. They hadn't brought him much further, but one never knew… One overlooked detail could make all the difference.

He spent the evening like so many others, trying to figure out his own mind and the memories of multiple people whom he had convinced to leave him with a copy of specific events. At first, he looked at recent ones from his staff, which had to do with Dolores Umbridge. She was a problem that would solve itself, he knew. She was here specifically to tie his hands, so struggling would bring nothing. Instead, he treated the woman with as much courtesy and kindness as he could muster, while purposefully ignoring the brewing rebellion from students and staff that she was blind to in her state of intoxication on authority.

Albus searched the memories mainly to find out weaknesses which he could use to hinder her progress and give support to the student body. Dolores wanted to divide the houses further, but apart from pulling a number of Slytherins to her side, she hadn't had much success. It would be challenging to make those see the error of their ways, especially Ms Parkinson, who had become most vocal about aiding Umbridge. Maybe he could arrange for a few of the more openminded Slytherin Prefects to talk to the girl and her gathered friends… He'd have to have a word with Severus about it too.

Besides those inside of Hogwarts, the general public might also want to know what liberties Dolores was taking with the freedom of a large group of magical children in Hogwarts, especially regarding punishment. Albus wouldn't stand for such atrocities happening in his school and had already had words with Cornelius about it, who had tried to downplay the impact and accused him of embellishing students' stories. Albus had swallowed down his white-hot rage and instead sought appeal of several members of the Wizengamot and board of school governors. That had only just started the wheels of what was going to be an incredibly slow process, so against his general instincts, Albus was even considering contacting the press that he usually was so wary of.

For reasons that appeared to have to do with an overhaul of the Daily Prophet's staff, the newspaper had started publishing serious articles that often even went directly against the Ministry. It focused on brewing troubles abroad and scandals that involved multiple Ministries of Magic now instead of spouting Ministry propaganda. As far as Dumbledore had found out, the head editor and owner had not changed, but Rita Skeeter had left and after her a number of other sensation-seeking journalists had been fired and replaced with more competent, serious individuals. He'd been too busy with trying to find out what Voldemort was up to, to concern himself much with the exact ongoing of the British press to find out what had caused the gradual change of direction, but he was grateful for it. It was a ray of light in otherwise dark times, even if the paper still did not appear to believe him on the matter of Voldemort's return.

At that thought, his gaze turned almost automatically towards the rows of phials reserved for anything related to Tom Riddle. These took up a good portion of space, as he was trying to solve multiple mysteries at once. No-one else was going to do this crucial research to prevent a second rise of the Dark Lord as so few wanted to admit that he had returned and even fewer had the power and time to do something about it. It was unthankful and tiring work, but Dumbledore considered his most important duty at the moment. As Headmaster, he could be replaced by a number of capable individuals, but who else was going to hunt down well-guarded pieces of soul across the world? Although 'world' was maybe too broad, everything indicated to all hiding spots being scattered across the United Kingdom. It did not help that so far, Albus had found none of them. All Horcruxes that he'd held had ended up in his hands by chance. He'd only seen the diary after its destruction, the serpent had been stunned by Bill Weasley, and Harry… well, Harry had been bound to come to Hogwarts.

He flicked his hand to bring his chair closer, bones aching painfully as he sat down on it and stared at the next phial in his hands. Horcruxes… he had not wanted to believe for a while that Tom had sunk so far as to tear his own essence apart to quell the fear of death. Everything pointed towards it however.

He'd first suspected so after laying eyes on the destroyed diary and hearing what it had done. An enchanted object would never have been able to act so independently. The most worrisome part was that it had held a sixteen-year-old version of Tom, meaning that it had been created at school during the first time that the Chamber had been opened this century. That fact had made him hesitant about the theory, for while it fit due to the murder of Myrtle, he at first could not believe that Tom would have gained access to the necessary knowledge to even perform such a foul ritual. As it was the only lead he had, he'd treated it as the only possibility and started gathering evidence, but his disbelief had only been entirely wiped away when Horace had been found murdered.

The old potion professor had been one of the few who was genuinely interested enough in the theory behind dark magic to have studied it without taking damage himself. He would have been an easy target for a brilliant, charming teenager who was set on gaining access to the secrets of the darkest arts. Being a favourite student of Horace had certainly helped. Ironically, by trying to cover up that trail, Albus had gained so much confidence in his theory that he became far more active in hunting down information about possible Horcruxes. He knew a bit about how Tom's mind worked, so he did not doubt that the boy had tried to create multiple ones, and everything spoke for that. The only piece that was missing was how many. The diary had been one for certain, and after the events of past week, he knew that Nagini was a second. Harry was a third, but due to the high possibility of that being an accident, Dumbledore knew he could leave the teen out of the equation when trying to follow Tom's logic. Would he have stopped at having three pieces of soul, the main one included? If he had, however, then it did not make sense to have murdered to get his hands on ancient artefacts such as the ones Hepzibah Smith had held.

The next magical number was five. Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket would heighten the count indeed to five but again, would Tom have found that to be sufficient? The most magical number of all was seven… Surely, a person could not survive splitting up their soul so many times… maybe Albus was wrong and Tom had indeed wanted to stop at five before leaving a piece of himself behind in the scar of the baby prophesised to vanquish him…

Albus sighed and poured in another memory, one he had already shown Harry before, where Tom met Morfin, on the day that the Riddles had been killed. More murders and a stolen ring… it might have ended up as another vessel, it might not have. Albus sincerely hoped that the ring was merely a trophy, a memento.

He did not honestly believe it. Tom had changed so much beyond recognition, beyond humanity, that it was well possible for his soul to be split into seven parts - eight even, counting Harry -, although Albus still hadn't found any clues about what the final Horcrux could be. The sword of Gryffindor was safe, and the only other artefact linked to the founders of Hogwarts that would fit Tom's collection would be Ravenclaw's lost diadem, which had not been seen in centuries. It was frustrating to have so little to go on, especially when yielding no results in his search. And now he actually had had the chance to study one, a living Horcrux even, and the snake had escaped through a method thought to be impossible. Were snakes so sentient that their language could activate floo powder? Or was Nagini a special case as she bore part of a human soul and was highly magical?

From the desk, he summoned an envelop and emptied out the contents on his hand with a determined expression. Not every part of the animal was beyond reach, he thought as he studied the few scales, pieces of skin and tiny bottles of venom and blood. Maybe somewhere in here, he could find the solution that he had not found in the snake's mind or magic before.

A solution to the largest moral dilemma he'd ever had to face. The ultimate sacrifice, a dive into dark magic that he'd never be able to recover from. Tears dropped in his beard at the mere thought of what he might have to do in order to stop Tom permanently. In order to ensure that the prophecy would be fulfilled. He brought trembling hands to his face and wept for the fate that rested on the shoulders of Harry Potter, while Fawkes' song of sorrow filled the office.

He did not want to see this brilliant life be extinguished. For all Dumbledore's fears, Harry had turned out to be everything that Tom was not. Even when last year, the boy had turned to dark magic in desperate times to stay alive during the Tournament, he had not given into it. There were still hints of Harry continuing to use it, a certain aura that was invisible to most, even after attempting to cleanse himself. Yet it was well within reasonable bounds, certainly less than Albus himself had used at that age, even less than James and Sirius had used and with much less malicious intent. Harry stood up for the weak; united students from all houses; fought against oppression and was overall the ideal image that Albus had of what a Gryffindor should be. Godric would be proud.

It was thus with a heavy heart that he tried to prepare the teen for the worst. Harry was so young still, not at all ready to face the truths that would need to come out at one point. The boy was always so curious, had been from their very first conversation, asking all the right questions that Albus should have answered yet could not in order to shield Harry and let him have an unconcerned childhood. Or as unconcerned as possible, considering all the trouble that found the boy every single year. Albus also did not want Harry to lose all hope. Even the darkest magic could sometimes be undone, and it was with this purpose in mind that he'd tried to study Nagini, going so far as to instruct some members of the Order to harm her in hopes of discovering a way to separate the soul from its vessel. She had escaped before that could have been attempted however, so he still did not know if it could work. He knew that the chances were slim, but he had to try to find a way to save his student from fate.

That possibility was even smaller now that nothing but a few bits and pieces remained to study further. In the meantime, he should focus again on finding all the other Horcruxes. He wanted Harry to live as long as possible, both for the boy himself and also because it was their last trump card. Voldemort could not know until it was already too late. Depending on how the prophecy was interpreted, it might be that only Harry could truly destroy each of the other Horcruxes…

So, he sat alone on this monstrous knowledge of trying to raise a child to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. It was justifiable. On the larger scale, it was the right thing to do to save their own society and a great many Muggles. Tom may be quiet now, he may not even start a war for some time, but Dumbledore was sure of one thing. Once that man was in power, through whichever method he'd find, he would not stop. He would not be kind or reasonable, instead ruling them all with ruthless and bloody oppression. The weak would not survive, and all those with compassion and emotions were weak in the Dark Lord's mind. That had even been the case when Tom had only been a teenager, releasing a Basilisk in the castle to filter out the unworthy. It had only grown worse from that point. Harry was their last hope, and even if it would eternally damn Dumbledore to whatever horrible afterlife there might be, he'd go through with it if need be.

In time, even Harry would understand.

Albus' eyes turned to the only thing that could bring him happiness in dark times, a series of memories that he'd witnessed so often that the labels had worn off from being taken out thousands of times. He didn't need labels for them anymore. It was probably better that they did not have any. He reached out for one in particular and held his breath while unstopping the cork and letting the silver stream pour into his Pensieve. In the corner of his eyes, he could see an empty, broken pendant shimmer in the cabinet next to the one he stored all memories in. The husk of his soul… Not quite a Horcrux, but it had felt as if his entire being had shattered with it.

With the eagerness of a much younger man, he fled into his own past, to the happiest weeks of summer he'd ever had. To better times when he'd started believing in love. Everyone had their own form of coping with the burden of life, and this was his alone.

So, I hoped that you all enjoyed this chaper. Sirius once again knows a little bit more and we've had a brief peak into Dumbledore's mind ;P After only having Voldemort's theories and Harry parroting those, with Sirius trying to counter a bit for this entire story so far, I thought it might be good to finally see how much was true.

Let me know your thoughts on it!
xx GeMerope