Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: The Last Horcrux Title: The Last Horcrux Author:centaury_squill Other pairings/threesome: past Severus/Regulus Rating: PG Word count: 9,350 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Pre-slash* Prompt: #42 from avioleta: A wartime story: Dumbledore is dead, Snape is alive, and the war has lasted well beyond the Battle of Hogwarts. Members of the Order and refugees are all holed up in Grimmauld Place, searching for a way to end the fighting for good. Something they encounter in the house points to Snape’s past (a relationship with Regulus Black, perhaps?), and Harry inexplicably finds himself jealous. He’s never thought of Snape as anything more than a hated professor, but now he can’t seem to get him out of his head. Their relationship develops slowly, but heatedly. They try to keep it a secret, but that proves impossible in such close quarters. Will such a scandalous distraction hinder the war effort? Or is it just the motivation they need to finally defeat Voldemort? Summary: Voldemort's survival can only mean one thing – but what's to be done about it? A/N: This deviated a bit from the prompt in places, but I hope you like it anyway! Also, my death toll is slightly different to JKR's.
The Last Horcrux
He's standing in a dark, shadowy room, staring at the man lying on the dusty floor. Harry realises he is in the Shrieking Shack; the man on the floor is Severus Snape, blood and memories pouring from him in an uncontrollable flood. Harry scoops the silvery stream of memories into the bottle which suddenly appears in his hand. Black eyes stare up at him with frightening intensity.
"Look – at – me –" Snape groans.
And Harry gazes back into those black, black eyes. They hold him transfixed for a long moment. Then their vital spark fades, disappears. Snape is dead.
Harry thrashed about, moaning. For a moment he almost woke, then the dream claimed him again.
The scene has changed; now Harry is facing up to Voldemort, Draco Malfoy's hawthorn wand in his hand, as the sun rises over Hogwarts castle. This is the moment he will find out who is the true master of the Elder Wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
And the Elder Wand comes spinning through the air towards him, as Voldemort falls back, killed by his own rebounding curse, and the watching crowd erupts in a tumult of shouts and cheers.
Harry woke up, still gripped with euphoria, the wild cheering fading in his ears. It took him a moment to realise it had only been a dream: he was at Grimmauld Place, not Hogwarts castle; Snape was in a bedroom on the floor above, alive and well; he'd doled out carefully selected memories to Harry in the Headmaster's office, not poured them all out uncontrollably with his life's blood in the Shrieking Shack.
And, while Harry may have won the Elder Wand, Voldemort was still very much alive.
*
"Shame the greasy git didn't peg out," Ron said indistinctly through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. "Then we wouldn't have to put up with him here, glaring at us all the time."
"Shush, Ron, Harry hasn't finished telling us about his dream," Hermione said. "Have you, Harry?"
"No, there was more to the dream, but –" Harry broke off to give Ron a cross look, "– I wish you wouldn't keep on about Snape like that. He's not that bad, really. Sometimes he seems almost human –"
Harry was interrupted by a sneering voice from the kitchen doorway.
"Thank you for that ringing endorsement, Mr Potter."
Severus Snape swept into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. As Dobby scurried up to him, offering coffee and toast, Harry stared down at his plate, willing himself not to blush. Why had Snape turned up now, for heaven's sake? He almost never joined them for meals, and certainly not for breakfast. Or had he been spying on them, and chosen this moment to cause maximum embarrassment?
"Go on about your dream, Harry," Ron said hurriedly, ignoring Hermione's look of disapproval.
"Yeah, well – the next bit was weird, too. I was duelling Voldemort outside the castle, just the way it really happened – I got the Elder Wand from him, and everything – but in my dream he actually died."
"Now that we all wish had happened," put in Remus, a savage snarl distorting his pale face.
Hermione reached across the table and pressed his hand in silent sympathy. Remus had been bitter and depressed ever since Tonks had died at the Battle of Hogwarts, hardly talking to anyone, rarely even visiting his son and mother-in-law.
"Yeah," chorused Fred and George – Arthur and Molly Weasley had both died in that same battle – and Ron added bitterly, "Why couldn't the bastard die?"
"Obviously, because one or more Horcruxes remain active," Snape said. His brooding gaze lingered on Harry. "I've never really been convinced by all that malarkey Potter told us about King's Cross and Dumbledore getting rid of the one in his scar. Maybe we should try killing him and see what happens."
"Not funny, Severus," Minerva McGonagall said briskly, coming into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. She waved Dobby away. "No thank you, I had some breakfast before leaving Beauxbatons this morning." She looked round the table. "Now that we're all here, I'd like to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix for this afternoon. Kingsley Shacklebolt will be joining us, and one or two other members. We really need to plan our strategy for dealing with Voldemort and his Death Eaters." She gave Snape a hard stare. "And you can keep your jokes about killing Harry to yourself, Severus."
Snape merely raised an eyebrow and looked bland. But Harry, remembering the inimical black stare which had accompanied Snape's words, was not so sure it had been intended as a joke...
*
Minerva McGonagall rapped loudly on the table for silence.
"This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix is now in session," she announced.
Harry looked around the table. Some of the original members of the Order had been killed, others were away on various missions, but of the old guard Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were present. Then there were the newer members, his contemporaries from Hogwarts: Ron, Hermione, Fred and George, Luna, Neville.
"Before we move on to more serious matters," Minerva was saying, "I'd just like to report that the students Hagrid and I accompanied to Beauxbatons are settling in well." She paused, and honesty compelled her to admit, "Some better than others, I must say."
She glanced at Harry, who winced. He'd been an unwilling witness to Ginny's tears and tantrums as she demanded to stay with the others at Grimmauld Place, not be packed off to Beauxbatons to continue her education in relative safety.
"And the Durmstrang contingent?" Snape asked. "Or are we conveniently forgetting about them?"
"Don't worry, Severus," Minerva said, "Your group of Slytherins –"
"Nest of vipers," Ron muttered under his breath.
"– set out for Durmstrang at the same time as we left for Beauxbatons, accompanied by Horace Slughorn and the Malfoys."
"Who will no doubt stay there, well out of harm's way," sneered Snape. "And speaking of which, I don't see Hagrid here. Did he remain at Beauxbatons, to.... further his education?"
"Are you suggesting that Hagrid's a coward?" Remus demanded. "Pretty rich, coming from you."
"Remus!" Minerva said, shocked. "Severus is one of the bravest of us all."
Snape waved his hand languidly. "Don't trouble yourself, Minerva. Lupin doesn't know what he's saying."
He looked down his long nose at the werewolf and added in a voice of mock concern, "His sort are always irrational coming up to their time of the month."
Remus growled deep in his throat; Snape's hand twitched almost imperceptibly towards his wand.
"Stop it, you two!" commanded Minerva.
"We've more important things to discuss than Hagrid," said Kingsley, his voice deep and calming. "This matter of the Horcruxes, for example."
He looked at Harry. "Perhaps you could give us a brief explanation? I, for one, wasn't in Dumbledore's confidence about this."
A murmur of agreement ran round the table.
Harry gave a short laugh. "None of us were, Kingsley. Not even me, fully, not until right at the end." His glance flickered to Snape, then away. He took a deep breath.
"Okay. Well, briefly then. Voldemort wants to live forever. So – and Dumbledore did eventually tell me this bit – he repeatedly split his soul, committing a series of murders to do so, and used the darkest of Dark magic to seal the split-off pieces into a number of objects. Known as Horcruxes."
Harry paused. Everyone was watching him intently; the room seemed suddenly very quiet.
"As far as I knew to begin with, Voldemort had split his soul into seven," Harry went on.
"One. Tom Riddle's old school diary. I destroyed that in the Chamber of Secrets with a basilisk fang in my second year at Hogwarts.
"Two. His grandfather's ring. Dumbledore broke the Horcrux in that, but unfortunately not before it had cursed his hand.
"Three. Slytherin's locket. Dumbledore thought he knew where that was, but when he and I went to retrieve it, it had already gone, replaced by a fake. I found out later that Regulus Black had taken the original locket and destroyed it.
"Four. Hufflepuff's cup. Ron and Hermione helped me get that from Gringotts and Hermione stabbed it with a basilisk fang she and Ron managed to retrieve from the Chamber of Secrets.
"Five. Ravenclaw's diadem. We tracked that down to the Room of Requirement and it was destroyed when Crabbe unleashed the Fiendfyre.
"Six. Nagini. We've Neville to thank for getting rid of that one."
Harry took a deep breath. "I originally thought that was it: the seventh part of Voldemort's soul remained with him, which indeed it did. But it turned out that when he murdered my parents –" Harry's voice faded.
Minerva murmured in wordless sympathy.
"– when he murdered my parents," Harry went on, his voice growing stronger, "Voldemort inadvertently created yet another Horcrux, one he never intended.
"Me."
Harry raised his hand and touched the scar on his forehead. "Or, to be more precise, this scar. When Voldemort tried to kill me in the Forbidden Forest, I ended up – somewhere. It looked like King's Cross to me. And Dumbledore appeared, and – well." He shrugged. "The upshot was: I didn't die, but the Horcrux in my scar did." He gave Snape a challenging look. "I'm certain of that."
"So, to sum up," Kingsley said, "since Voldemort is, after all that, still alive – even if he is weakened and dependent on his Death Eaters – one of those seven Horcruxes can't have been properly destroyed."
"Or there's another one nobody knows about," George said gloomily.
"Oh, that's not possible," Luna told him serenely.
"I hope you're right, Luna," Harry said. "Otherwise we're screwed."
"So, our top priority must be to find out which Horcrux wasn't properly dealt with, and destroy it," said Kingsley. "Before Voldemort regains enough strength to make any more."
*
"Slytherin's locket," Harry said firmly. "It's got to be."
He, Ron and Hermione were standing on the top landing of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, outside Regulus Black's old bedroom, nerving themselves to go in. Fred and George had promised to create a diversion to keep its current occupant away while the trio searched the room for clues, but they were still a bit wary. Who knew what jinxes Snape had set up to repel intruders?
Eventually Harry stepped forward, Elder Wand raised.
"Come on, guys," he said. "It stands to reason it must be Slytherin's locket. Regulus Black can't have destroyed it after all, no matter what he said in his note." He grinned at Ron and Hermione, trying to lighten the mood. "The sooner we find out what really happened to that locket the better, before Snape tries poisoning me to test his theory of which Horcrux still exists."
Harry turned the doorknob and pushed open the door; he felt a certain resistance, but a gesture from the Elder Wand soon put a stop to that. Ron and Hermione followed him into the bedroom, Hermione giving an apprehensive glance over her shoulder as though she had little faith in the Weasley twins' diversionary tactics.
"Better concentrate on what's left of Regulus' old belongings," said Harry, "We don't want to have to explain to Snape why we've been rummaging through his stuff."
He raised the Elder Wand again and said, "Res non Reguli obscuranto!"
More than half the contents of the room immediately vanished.
"Hey, that's cool," Ron said, looking enviously at Harry's wand.
The three of them looked around at the Slytherin wall hangings, the Black family crest with its motto Toujours pur painted above the bed, the collage of yellowing newspaper cuttings from Voldemort's heyday. Ron walked over to the desk and began to search it. Hermione levitated a procession of old robes from the back of the wardrobe onto the bed. Harry picked up an old framed photograph of a Slytherin Quidditch team; Regulus Black, a thinner version of his older brother Sirius, sat in the middle of the front row.
"He played Seeker," mused Harry. "Like me." For a moment he forgot about their search, lost in happy memories of Hogwarts and Quidditch.
The bang of a desk drawer slamming shut startled him back to the present.
"Nothing in here," announced Ron. "Found anything, Hermione?"
Hermione looked up from her careful search through the pockets of Regulus Black's old Quidditch robes. "Not so far. How about you, Harry?"
"Nope, just looking at this old photo," Harry said, hurriedly replacing it on its shelf. Then he looked at it again, frowning. As he'd put it down, the Elder Wand in his other hand had brushed against it, and he'd felt a distinct tingle shoot up his arm.
"Hang on," he said slowly, picking the photograph up again. "There's something funny about this."
He tapped it with his wand and the frame immediately sprang apart with a click. Fingers trembling, Harry prised out the Quidditch team photograph to reveal a scrap of paper hidden underneath. His heart began to pound with excitement. Had he found a clue to what Regulus had done to try and destroy Slytherin's locket? Or where he'd hidden it, maybe?
Harry carefully teased out the bit of paper then stared at it in shock. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't this.
"What've you got there, Harry?" Ron asked, bounding across the room. "Another photo? Is it of Slytherin's lo–" He broke off. "Eww!"
"What?" Hermione abandoned the robes on the bed. "Let me see."
"No, Hermione, you really don't want to look," Ron said, his face screwed up with disgust. "It's Snape and Regulus Black – and they're kissing."
*
Half an hour later, Harry, Ron and Hermione reluctantly called off their search: they could find no trace of either Slytherin's locket or what had become of it.
"Better get out of here," Ron said, opening the door. "What're you going to do with that, Harry?"
Harry looked at the photograph in his hand; he'd been going to return it to its hiding place, but at the last minute he changed his mind. An unexpected pang of jealousy shot through him at the sight of the tender expression on the young Severus' face as he gazed into Regulus' eyes.
A sudden commotion in the hall three flights below drew Ron out to the top of the stairs. Peering over the bannisters he saw George apparently trying to bar Snape's way; Snape was shouting so loudly that Ron had no problem hearing him.
"And get out of my way or I'll curse the other ear off!" Snape bellowed.
"Oops," said Ron, dashing back to the others, "Come on, we'd better Apparate out of here, we don't want to meet Snape on the stairs."
Harry stuffed the photo of Severus and Regulus into his pocket and stepped out onto the landing, followed by Hermione. Then he paused, remembering something.
"Hang on a minute," he said, turning back to the bedroom. "Res non Reguli revelio!"
Snape's possessions immediately reappeared. Harry gave a quick glance around, nodded in satisfaction, and left the room, warding the door behind him with a flick of his wand. He, Ron and Hermione Disapparated without further ado, reappearing in the bedroom he shared with Ron. A moment later, they heard angry footsteps stamping past: Snape, on his way upstairs.
"Phew," Ron said, pantomiming wiping sweat of his face with his handkerchief, then wringing it out. "Close call." He tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. "I think I'd better check that Fred and George haven't been turned into toads or something."
"You should have thought of that before you conned them into waylaying Professor Snape," said Hermione.
"Come on, Hermione, they didn't need any conning! They enjoy creating mayhem, you know that."
"They may have once, but surely you've noticed the way they –"
Still bickering, they left the room. Harry waited till he was sure they'd gone, then pulled the photograph of Regulus and Severus out of his pocket and studied it. Once again, he felt that twinge of jealousy: Snape never looked at him like that. But then, why would he want him to? Harry shook his head. The important thing was that young Severus Snape seemed to have had a relationship with Regulus Black, so maybe Regulus had confided in him about the locket. Although, surely Snape would have said something if that were the case? Harry scowled blackly at the couple in the photograph, wishing that they could answer his questions, but all they did was put their arms around each other and resume their enthusiastic snogging.
He sighed. There was nothing else for it: he'd have to talk to Severus Snape himself.
*
Harry picked his time carefully, not wanting any witnesses. He waited until Snape was alone in the cellar brewing Wolfsbane Potion for Remus, then made his way carefully down the cellar steps, brushing aside cobwebs as he went, and resolving to have Dobby clear them all away later.
The air down there struck chill, reminding him of Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts; the resemblance increased the further he went in, seeing the orderly array of ingredients, the cauldron bubbling over a handful of blue flames, the nameless objects floating murkily in jars.
And Snape.
He stood, stirring rod in hand, looking into the depths of the cauldron with concentrated attention. For the first time Harry could see in his face traces of the intense young Hogwarts student he'd once been. Harry flashed on the photograph in his pocket and felt himself blush.
Then Snape looked up and saw Harry, and the familiar scowl came over his face.
"What do you want, Potter?"
"Um –" Harry's mind went blank. Why could Snape still do this to him? He wasn't a naive schoolboy any more. Telling himself to get a grip, Harry fixed his gaze on the cauldron and said, "I wanted to talk to you. About Regulus Black."
He didn't see the swift, measuring glance Snape shot at him.
"Regulus Black," Snape repeated. "What makes you think I know anything about Regulus Black?"
"Well, you were –" Harry broke off, sweating and embarrassed.
"What? Both Death Eaters, were you about to say?" Snape demanded, eyes narrowed.
"No! No – I was going to say –" Don't say lovers! "– friends," Harry finished weakly.
"Friends?" There was a curious note in Snape's voice. "Friends. Hmm." His voice sharpened. "Potter! Look. At. Me."
The words, the tone – so reminiscent of his dream – sent a chill down Harry's spine. Reluctantly, he looked up from the cauldron and met Snape's eyes.
There was a long silence, in which Harry seemed to be drowning in those inky depths. He desperately tried to keep all thoughts of Severus and Regulus kissing out of his mind; he'd become better at Occlumency over the past year, but was he proof against this? He couldn't be sure. Even when Snape finally looked away, Harry could find no clue in his face: had he seen that photograph in Harry's thoughts, or not?
Snape looked down into the cauldron, tutted. "I don't have time for this. If you want to ask questions about Regulus Black, you can wait until I've finished this potion. Or –" An idea suddenly seemed to strike him; he smiled unpleasantly. "Or, you can help me as you ask your questions."
"I'll help," Harry said quickly.
Snape pushed a heap of repulsive-looking creatures towards him. "Skin these Flobberworms for me, then."
Fifty Flobberworms and an extremely frustrating conversation with Snape later, Harry was still no nearer to discovering what Regulus Black had done with Slytherin's locket.
The potion was almost complete; Snape tipped in a small spoonful of meticulously chopped aconite and smirked at Harry.
"Thank you for your assistance, Potter," he drawled. "It appears you did manage to acquire some knowledge from that book of mine you stole, after all."
"I didn't steal –" Harry began hotly, then stopped, took a deep breath. Snape was just trying to wind him up again: well, he wouldn't succeed this time. "Professor," he said, with sarcastic emphasis on the title, "Can you think of anyone else – anyone at all – that Regulus might've confided in?"
Snape shrugged, gave the potion a careful counter-clockwise stir.
"Not unless you count that repulsive house-elf of his."
*
"Kreacher!" Hermione exclaimed. "Of course!" She looked reproachfully at Harry. "I told you not to send him off with Draco Malfoy."
"I didn't send him off with Draco Malfoy," Harry said angrily. "I told him to tail Malfoy, follow him everywhere, find out what he was up to!" He turned to Ron in appeal. "You remember, don't you? When Malfoy kept disappearing? I knew he was up to no good, and I was right, wasn't I? He was repairing that Vanishing Cabinet to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts!"
"Yeah, mate," Ron said, "but you know Kreacher. Any loophole and he'd crawl through it."
"There wasn't a loophole," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I couldn't foresee Malfoy doing a runner from Hogwarts. I told Kreacher to stick to him like glue and report back to me." Harry gave a short laugh. "He got the sticking like glue part right. But he didn't do much reporting, did he?"
"Well, no. However he justified it to himself, he's stayed with Draco Malfoy ever since," said Hermione. "But maybe if you'd been nicer to him, Harry..."
Harry glared at her. "What difference would that have made? Kreacher jumped at the chance of following Malfoy around, thought he was the dog's bollocks –"
"So we've you to thank for that obnoxious house-elf tagging along everywhere with us."
Harry spun round to see Snape emerging from the cellar steps, a stoppered flask in his hand. As their eyes met, Harry was sure that Snape was remembering, as he was himself, the events of that momentous night: the green blast of Avada Kedavra, Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower, Malfoy and Snape fleeing the scene. Even after viewing Snape's memories and realising that Dumbledore's death had been inevitable, Harry found it hard to forgive him for it, and perhaps Snape realised this, for he gave Harry an icy stare as he put the flask down on the table and said curtly, "See that Lupin takes this as soon as possible," before sweeping out of the kitchen.
*
"Thanks, Harry," Remus said, putting down the empty, still-smoking goblet with a grimace. "Say what you like about Severus, he's the best brewer of Wolfsbane Potion I know. Shame he can't make it taste any better." He picked up the now half-empty flask, tilted it backwards and forwards. "I'll take the second dose before I go to bed tonight."
"Remus?"
"Mmm?" Remus' eyes were still fixed on the deep purple liquid swirling and smoking in its container.
"Do you know how to get to Durmstrang?"
Remus set down the flask and frowned at Harry. "Why on earth do you want to go there?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't particularly want to, but I think my old house-elf Kreacher must be there, and I need to talk to him. I think – I hope – he may know what Regulus Black did with Slytherin's locket."
The lines on Remus' face deepened. "It's not so easy to get to Durmstrang; it's Unplottable, the same as Hogwarts, and you'd need an invitation. But what makes you think Kreacher's there?"
"Apparently he's still with Draco Malfoy, and Professor McGonagall said that all the Malfoys are at Durmstrang now."
Remus' gaze returned to the flask of Wolfsbane. "The only person I can think of who might be able to help you, is Severus. I believe he said once that he'd been there for a Potions conference."
*
"Potions?" Ron said scornfully. "Dark Arts, more like."
Harry had just finished telling his friends what Remus had said. He couldn't help agreeing with Ron; he could just see Snape at Durmstrang for a conference on the Dark Arts.
"Thing is," he said uncomfortably, "I don't think old Snapey would be that willing to help me." He looked up to see Hermione making violent shushing gestures.
"What? It's no secret he thinks I'm a waste of space, so why should he want to help me?"
"Good question, Potter. I can't think of one reason why he would."
The sneering voice came from just behind him; Harry whipped round to see Snape regarding him superciliously, one eyebrow raised.
"Damn, will you stop doing that!" he exclaimed. "Have you put a Trace on your name, or something?"
To his surprise, Snape actually smiled – a rather thin-lipped, grudging smile, but a smile none the less. "No need for a Trace, Potter, when you and your friends conduct your conversations at the tops of your voices."
Anxious to keep the peace, Hermione put in, "Professor Snape, we were wondering – Harry thought – that is, Remus said –" Her voice faltered and died under Snape's unblinking black stare.
Transferring the stare to Harry, Snape said, "Well, Potter? What is it you want... old Snapey... to do for you?"
Swallowing hard, Harry replied, "Sorry if I was disrespectful, Professor. The thing is, if I'm to question Kreacher about that locket, I need to go to Durmstrang, and Remus said you were the only one of us who knows how to get there."
Snape put a long finger to his lips, frowning thoughtfully. "I could go there, yes. But you would not be my choice of ideal travelling companion, Potter."
Harry almost said that the feeling was mutual, but something stopped him. Ever since first catching sight of the photograph now burning a hole in his pocket, his already complicated feelings about Snape had become more complicated still. Now, the thought of travelling alone with him held far more appeal than he'd ever have thought possible.
"I have to come with you," he said. "I'm still Kreacher's master; I can order him to tell us what happened to the locket and he'd have to tell me. You couldn't." Forestalling Snape's next move, he added, "You wouldn't even be able to order him to come back here."
Snape gave Harry a long, considering look. "Very well," he said. "I will arrange for the two of us to travel to Durmstrang." His glance swept dismissively over Ron and Hermione. "Just the two of us. This will be no Sunday School outing."
Harry smiled. "Sure," he said, over his friends' protests. "That suits me fine."
*
It took Snape longer than Harry would have liked, but at last they stood together in the dingy back streets of King's Cross, fingers poised over the illegally acquired International Portkey.
"Ready?" Snape asked curtly.
Harry nodded.
The Portkey – an empty vodka bottle – glowed blue: Harry and Snape quickly placed their fingers on it, almost but not quite touching each other. Instantly they were on their way, spinning through the air high above London. For a moment Harry had the awful thought that maybe Snape's dodgy contact in Knockturn Alley had betrayed them, that the Portkey was in fact delivering them straight to Voldemort himself. Instinctively he tried to pull his finger away from the bottle, but it remained as if glued there, with the bottle pulling him onwards. His shoulder knocked against Snape's as their flight continued in a whirl of colour and a rush of wind, for far longer than he ever remembered a Portkey journey taking before.
His feet suddenly hit the paving stones of a courtyard with a jarring crunch; he lost his balance and sprawled full length, automatically reaching for his wand. Beside him he could see Snape – crouching, tense, wand already in his hand. The vodka bottle rolled away from them unnoticed.
Then Snape relaxed and rose to his feet, stowing his wand away in his robes.
"Hello, Lucius," he said. "Aren't you going to invite us inside?"
*
Harry felt an uncomfortable pang of some emotion – surely not jealousy? – as Snape stooped to kiss Draco's mother on the cheek.
"How nice to see you again, Narcissa," he murmured. "Thank you for welcoming us into your living quarters. Are you finding Durmstrang to your liking?"
Narcissa Malfoy smiled up at him. "Oh, we are managing to adjust, thank you, Severus. And what brings you here?"
Her glance included Harry; he gave her an awkward nod and said, "I need to speak to my house-elf, Kreacher, Mrs Malfoy."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You have come all this way to speak to a house-elf?"
Feeling a fool, Harry glanced quickly at Snape, who looked blankly back at him for a moment before pressing Narcissa's hand and murmuring something in her ear.
"Oh, very well," she said, looking slightly bemused. "I'd better call Draco. For some reason that house-elf follows him everywhere."
She wasn't looking at Harry, unlike Snape, who saw his guilty expression and smirked. "If you would, Narcissa," he said. "We'd be very grateful."
Narcissa drew her wand and summoned her Patronus: a white peacock. "Fetch Draco," she commanded it.
The peacock flew away, its long tail feathers dragging behind it, returning shortly with Draco Malfoy. A moment later a tiny, ancient house-elf followed him into the Malfoys' living quarters. He gave a theatrical start when he saw Harry.
"Master," he said in a bullfrog croak, bowing deeply, but shooting Harry a look of the utmost loathing.
"Kreacher," Harry responded. "Long time no see."
Snape said something else to Narcissa, too quietly for Harry to hear, and she gave him a regal nod before saying to her son, "Come, Draco, let us join your father. Professor Snape and Mr Potter wish to talk to the elf in private."
"Talk to him?" Draco laughed incredulously. "Takes all sorts, I suppose." And he stalked out after his mother.
When the Malfoys had gone, Harry inserted his finger into the open collar of his sweatshirt and hooked out the thin gold chain hanging round his neck. On the end of the chain dangled the fake locket which Dumbledore had paid so dearly to acquire.
"Look at this, Kreacher," he commanded. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"
To his surprise, tears came into the house-elf's bloodshot eyes, and Kreacher wailed, "Oh Master Regulus, Master Regulus, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed you!"
Harry was only just in time to stop the house-elf from seizing the ornate silver poker from the Malfoys' fireplace.
"No, Kreacher," he said firmly. "I forbid you to hurt yourself."
The tears were now pouring out of Kreacher's eyes and over his snout-like nose. "Kreacher tried to carry out Master Regulus' orders," he sobbed. "But he fa-i-i-led!"
"What were Master Regulus' orders?" Harry asked. Then, seeing the house-elf hesitate, he added sternly, "I'm your master now, Kreacher, and I command you to tell me!"
Kreacher curled himself into a pitiful little ball on the floor, and, rocking backwards and forwards as he spoke, began to tell his tale. How his beloved Master Regulus had been so proud to join the Dark Lord on his sixteenth birthday – out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape grimace bitterly at this – how one day he had told Kreacher that the Dark Lord needed a house-elf, and Regulus had volunteered Kreacher, such an honour for them both.
As Kreacher's story unfolded, Harry became more and more enthralled. He knew, having been there himself, how menacing that underground lake had been, and his respect for Kreacher increased. How had he managed to escape from the Inferi? When he put the question to the house-elf, he didn't seem to understand what Harry meant, merely repeating, "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come home."
"House-elves have powers wizards do not," Snape interrupted. "If his master told him to come home, he would have done so."
"His master's bidding is the house-elf's highest law," agreed Kreacher.
"So, he – what? Disapparated?" said Harry in wonder. "But wouldn't Voldemort know he'd be able to do that?"
Snape's thin mouth twisted. "The Dark Lord always did underestimate lesser beings," he said under his breath.
Harry nodded. "I can just imagine what Hermione would say if she were here," he said soberly. Then, turning back to Kreacher, he added, "Then what happened, Kreacher? What did Master Regulus say when you told him what Voldemort had done?"
Kreacher knuckled his bloodshot eyes. "Master Regulus was very worried," he said. "He told Kreacher to stay out of sight, not to tell anybody else what had happened. Then, one day –"
He went on to tell them how Master Regulus had come to his cupboard one night, very agitated, and had asked Kreacher to take him to the underground lake, to the island, to the basin where the Dark Lord had protected the gold locket with his evil potion. And Kreacher had done so.
As Kreacher explained what Master Regulus had done next, Harry sensed Snape's attention sharpening. And when the house-elf described how his master had drunk the potion and, unable to prevent himself from seeking water to quench his deadly thirst, had been dragged beneath the waves, Harry realised that if Snape had been alone he would be crying out in anguish. And the photograph in his pocket, never far from his thoughts, gave him the reason why.
Risking a snub, Harry reached out and gripped Snape's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "You never knew how he died?"
Snape shook his head, a tight little gesture, but he didn't shrug Harry's hand away.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher he must never tell anybody what had happened," the house-elf said. "And Kreacher did what he said, and swapped the lockets, but –" his voice suddenly rose to a wail, "– but Kreacher f-f-failed his master! Kreacher tried, again and again, but he could not destroy the locket! And –"
His voice was now so choked with sobs that they couldn't understand what he was trying to say. Harry squatted down beside him and put his hands over Kreacher's, not noticing the odd look which Snape gave him.
"Kreacher," Harry said gently, "this is really important. I think I know how to destroy that locket as Regulus wanted, but I'll need your help. Where is the locket now?"
But the house-elf only wailed louder than ever. A horrible thought suddenly struck Harry; he jumped to his feet and looked accusingly at Snape.
"When you and Malfoy ran away from Hogwarts," he said, too agitated to choose his words carefully, "Kreacher followed you, didn't he?"
Snape's face closed. "Following your instructions, as I understand it," he said snidely.
"Yeah, well, where did you go? Did he go with you to Malfoy Manor? Did Voldemort see him?"
Harry sensed, rather than saw, Snape relax slightly. "The Dark Lord had other things to think about than house-elves, Potter. Besides, I doubt he can tell them apart."
Kreacher nodded and gulped. "Kreacher kept out of the Dark Lord's way, as Master Regulus would have wanted."
"I don't understand," Harry said. "If Voldemort didn't take the locket from you, then where is it?" Seeing that Kreacher was about to burst into tears again, he added, "It's okay, Kreacher. I only want to get it back so I can destroy it. Regulus would've wanted you to tell me."
"It was s-s-stolen!" wailed Kreacher. "After a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, when my mistress's house was full of Mudbloods and t-t-traitors!"
"Who stole it?" Harry asked urgently. "Who stole it, Kreacher?" But even as he spoke, he remembered the theft of Sirius' goblets after his godfather's death.
His eyes met Snape's; he was sure they were both thinking the same thing, and when Kreacher sobbed out Mundungus Fletcher's name, Snape was already reaching into his robes for the Portkey to return them to London.
*
Back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry wanted to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix immediately, but Snape persuaded him to wait.
"Let's find out first whether Mundungus Fletcher still has the locket," he said. "I know his usual haunts, it shouldn't be too difficult to find him."
"We-ell, okay," Harry said, "but I'm coming with you. Or maybe we should just set Kreacher onto him!" Harry had insisted, over Snape's objections, on bringing Kreacher back with them.
Snape gave him an unfathomable look. Time stretched uncomfortably between them. But just as Harry thought he was going to refuse, Snape held out his arm.
"Very well. I shall Side-Along Apparate us to the most likely place. But I must warn you it is not for the faint-hearted. Have your wand ready."
Snape's knowledge of Mundungus Fletcher's usual haunts proved slightly out of date, but they eventually tracked him down in the third seedy pub they tried, after a tip-off from a barman. Faced with an irate Snape, and Harry armed with righteous indignation and the Elder Wand, Mundungus soon crumpled.
"I ain't got it, all right?" he whined. "I don't know what you're makin' such a fuss abaht. Sirius never wanted any of that ole stuff –"
Seeing the look in Harry's eyes, he prudently fell silent.
"You. Are. Going. To. Tell. Me," said Harry, punctuating each word with a threatening jab of the Elder Wand, "What. Happened. To. That. Locket."
Mundungus cowered away from him. "That effin' Ministry hag had it off of me, didn't she?" he said. "Threatened to take me in fer tradin' wivart a licence. Took the locket instead. I couldn't stop her, mate!"
"What Ministry hag?" asked Harry, his heart beating fast with excitement. At last they seemed to be getting somewhere.
"I dunno 'er name," Mundungus said. "Little woman. Bow in 'er 'air. Looked like a toad."
Snape and Harry's eyes met over Mundungus' head; they spoke as one.
"Dolores Umbridge!"
*
"Dolores Umbridge?" Kingsley said, slowly and thoughtfully. "Still at the Ministry, as far as I know."
Harry had called an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, to report on what he and Snape had learned of the fate of Slytherin's locket. After hearing what he had to say, Kingsley, the only one of them with Ministry connections, had been the first to speak.
Minerva eyed Kingsley beadily. "As far as you know? Haven't you got your job at the Ministry back yet, Kingsley?"
Kingsley shrugged. "Cornelius Fudge is dragging his heels. You know what he's like, Minerva."
"Och, only too well," Minerva said gloomily. "I said we would have trouble when he became Minister for Magic again."
"Not as much as when Pius Thicknesse was in charge," put in Snape. "Say what you like about Cornelius Fudge, at least he's not under the Imperius Curse."
"I don't understand," Harry said. "I thought the Ministry had been taken back from the control of the Death Eaters. So how come Umbridge is still there and you aren't, Kingsley?"
"Cornelius Fudge," Kingsley said wearily, as if that explained everything.
"I knew he and Dolores were always close," Minerva said, "but surely, the evidence against her –"
Kingsley laughed. "Cornelius was never one to let facts stand in his way," he said. "He chooses to believe her story that she was under a Confundus Charm all the time she was head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission." He raised his eyebrows. "As for me, I've been a little too critical of him in the past for him to trust me now. I think he suspects me of wanting his job."
"You'd make a marvellous Minister for Magic!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Sounds like that's what Fudge is afraid off," Ron said sourly.
"But you are still allowed into the Ministry, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, nobody would bat an eyelid if they saw you there, they'd just think you'd gone to badger Fudge about getting your old job back."
"True," Kingsley said, "and in fact I'd been intending to do just that." He smiled at Harry. "Good point, Harry. And it's been so long since I've been in the Ministry, I could easily forget the way and end up in Umbridge's department by mistake." He sketched air-quotes around the last word.
"Fine," Harry said, "and I'll be with you. Under my Invisibility Cloak."
"Just one moment," Snape interrupted. "Aren't you forgetting something in your eagerness to acquire this locket?" He looked down his long nose at Harry. "Even if you succeed, you still lack the means to destroy it."
A confused babble of voices erupted around the table, with several people speaking at once, in which the words "Basilisk fang" and "Sword of Gryffindor" were clearly audible.
Snape raised his hand for silence. "I am aware that the Dark Lord and his followers now occupy Hogsmeade and the surrounding district; that is why Hogwarts has been magically sealed for the time being. But I believe that the sword of Gryffindor is still within the castle."
"And how would we get it?" growled Remus, clearly sceptical. "Death Eaters everywhere, and Hogwarts refusing to let anybody in."
Snape sneered at him. "There is one person who can still enter Hogwarts," he said. "And that is the headmaster. I shall go and retrieve the sword of Gryffindor myself."
*
Harry stood outside the Ministry of Magic, Slytherin's locket in his hand. It had proved relatively easy to slip into Umbridge's office in Kingsley's wake, Obliviate her, and remove the locket. To prevent any immediate repercussions, they had duplicated the locket with the Geminio charm and left her with the replica. Harry looked down at the original locket in his hand. At last! But there was not a moment to be lost, he must get back to Grimmauld Place immediately and wait for Snape to return with the means to destroy the Horcrux. Dusk was already falling; they must have spent longer in the Ministry than he'd realised. Maybe Snape was already on his way back.
Just as he was thinking this, Harry suddenly had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. He whirled round, uneasily scanning the shabby back street; what if a Death Eater had tracked him here? But then he suddenly became aware of a bright light appearing further down the street, and a moment later a silver doe stepped out of a shadowy alleyway. A Patronus! Harry hurried forward, wondering who could have sent it. As he came closer, he felt that he almost recognised it, although he knew he'd never seen it before. There was a feeling of absolute rightness about this encounter, as though he'd been waiting for it all his life.
And his sense of inevitability only increased when the doe spoke to him with Snape's voice, just two words:
"Help me!"
Without stopping to think, Harry slung the locket's chain around his neck and drew the Elder Wand.
"Take me to him," he commanded the doe, and Apparated.
*
Harry materialised in the middle of a scene of carnage. Snape, his back to the locked gates of Hogwarts, faced a posse of Death Eaters; he had obviously been employing his signature spell, for at least half of them bore the bloody gashes of Sectumsempra. But Snape himself was not unscathed. Harry felt his stomach clench as he saw the wounds on the man's face. Later, he would realise that this was the moment when he finally left behind the prejudices of his Hogwarts days – the schoolboy Harry would have rejoiced to see his old enemy in pain, whereas now he felt pity for him and a vast anger against the enemies who'd done this. His face implacable, he swept the Elder Wand in a great arc; most of the Death Eaters fell to the ground, the rest fled in panic.
For a moment Harry thought he'd inadvertently struck Snape down, too, then realised that he'd been hit by a hex flung at random by a fleeing Death Eater. Hastily he passed the Elder Wand over Snape's supine body, murmuring counter-curses and healing spells; soon, Snape sat up, looking bewildered. As he saw Harry bending over him, a look of comprehension mixed with something Harry couldn't quite identify came over his face.
"My Patronus found you, then," he said. "I wasn't sure. It was... an act of desperation."
As Harry helped him to his feet, Snape nodded at the bodies lying at their feet and said drily, "Your magic has become more powerful, I see."
"Maybe too powerful," Harry said ruefully. "It's mainly the Elder Wand, you know. I'm going to get rid of it as soon as we defeat Voldemort."
Snape looked incredulous and murmured something Harry couldn't catch.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"Only that we should seek out the sword of Gryffindor," Snape told him.
Harry had a sneaking feeling that wasn't what Snape had really said, but he just nodded and pulled at Slytherin's locket so that it hung outside his sweatshirt.
"And then, this gets what's coming to it," he said, squinting down at it with loathing.
*
They stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster's office. So far the castle had given them free passage, but now they'd hit a snag: the gargoyle protecting the staircase barred their way as resolutely as ever it had done in Dumbledore's day.
"I'm the Headmaster, you concrete cretin!" shouted Snape. "Get out of the bloody way!"
The gargoyle looked blankly back at him.
"Let me try," Harry offered, stepping forward and raising the Elder Wand. But even this failed to move the gargoyle.
"Maybe it's waiting for a password," Harry said. "What was the last one you gave it?" He was guessing that Snape had not followed Dumbledore's precedent of sweet-inspired passwords. "Some potions ingredient, maybe?"
To his surprise, a dull flush stained Snape's cheekbones, and, turning towards the gargoyle, he muttered, "Harry Potter."
"What?" asked Harry, thinking Snape was addressing him. "What do you – oh."
For he was interrupted by a loud grinding sound; the gargoyle moved ponderously aside, leaving their way clear. Snape immediately marched past it, his back rigid with embarrassment.
His brain reeling with the realisation that Snape had used 'Harry Potter' as the password to his office, Harry followed him up the spiral staircase. Moments later, they stood in front of the large portrait of Albus Dumbledore hanging on the wall behind the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore was to all intents and purposes asleep, but Harry thought he saw the painted eyelids lift briefly, revealing a gleam of blue.
Without looking at Harry, Snape reached up and pressed a hidden catch; the portrait swung open, revealing the sword of Gryffindor in a secret recess behind it. Immediately Harry felt the locket begin to vibrate against his chest, its chain tightening around his neck. He let out a strangled gasp, clawing at the chain with both hands. He couldn't draw breath, bright sparks shot across his vision, there was a roaring in his ears. He slumped forward, feeling as though he were drowning in deep water.
Snape spun round, realised what was happening and acted at once. He seized the sword, swept it down from the wall one-handed and, his other hand grasping Harry's shoulder to keep him still, inserted the sword's tip between the chain and Harry's neck. The chain was cutting so deeply that he had to press hard against Harry's flesh; drops of blood welled up, slowly at first, then faster and faster, dripping onto the floor. Swearing, Snape pressed harder still, almost as if he were trying to cut off Harry's head, then jerked the sword tip suddenly upwards.
The chain parted, the dangling locket clattered to the floor. A drop of Harry's blood followed, splashing across the locket, obscuring the ornate S worked onto its face. Harry's knees gave way; he pitched onto the oak floorboards beside the Horcrux where he lay, perfectly still.
*
"You need to be the one to stab it," Harry said. "It has to be you. I'm sure of it."
He and Snape stood together beside the Headmaster's desk; Slytherin's locket lay on top of it, twitching and trembling. Harry raised his hand and felt at his neck. Snape's spells had revived him and healed the nick made the sword, but the deep furrow left by the locket's chain remained.
Snape regarded the locket with loathing. "Slytherin's locket. Gryffindor's sword. Now which of us is a Gryffindor? Oh yes, that would be you."
Harry shook his head, looking stubborn. "The sword worked fine for you just now, when you saved my life." He stretched out his hand, smeared his own blood away from the S on the locket, inlaid with tiny emeralds. It looked like a snake lying curled there. "I'll tell it to open in Parseltongue, you stab it."
Snape looked at him sideways. "Enough of Voldemort remains in you to speak Parseltongue?" He took a firmer grip on the sword. "Maybe I should have beheaded you, after all." Seeing Harry's grin, his eyes narrowed. "Don't think I didn't consider it."
"For your information," Harry said loftily, "I can't actually speak Parseltongue any more. But I do remember some bits of it I've heard before." He laughed. "After all, if Ron managed to open the Chamber of Secrets with his lame imitation of Parseltongue, I'm sure I can open this locket."
Snape hesitated, half-raised the sword, lowered it again.
"Come on," Harry said persuasively. "I'll open it, you stab it. Right?" Seeing Snape still looked doubtful, he added, "You aren't afraid of it, are you?"
"Of course I am," Snape said through gritted teeth, "and if you knew the Dark Lord as well as I do, you'd be afraid of it, too."
"Enough talking," Harry said, with an authority which surprised even himself. "We do it. Now." And he lisped out a halting phrase in Parseltongue.
The locket sprang open and they caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes, as handsome as Tom Riddle's had been in his early days. They swivelled from right to left, appraising Harry, appraising Snape. Harry took a firm grip on the locket and held it steady on the desk top. "Stab it!" he shouted.
But a voice, dark and insinuating, issued from the locket.
"Severus Snape, you think you have changed your allegiance. But it will do you little good. He will never look at you as you wish, never look upon you as a lover."
Snape gave a little gasp of shock. His face turned white.
"Stab it!" Harry shouted desperately.
Snape was staring fixedly at the locket, from which a pair of joined figures were issuing until they towered above him: giant images of Harry and Ginny.
"He is mine, you pathetic little man," hissed the image of Ginny, "I know your lust for him, but you will never have him."
"How could you even think it?" added the image of Harry, in Voldemort's voice. "I despise you and all your kind, you filthy pervert."
"Stab it!" the real Harry shouted, but he could see that Snape wasn't listening. He was staring as if mesmerised at the giant figures, who had embraced and were now kissing. Harry reached out and gripped Snape's arm. "Snape – listen to me! I don't love Ginny! They're lying! Don't listen to Riddle's lies! For God's sake, Snape – Severus – STAB IT!"
Something finally got through to Snape; eyes closed, he raised the sword of Gryffindor and stabbed blindly downwards. The sword seemed to guide itself to its target; with a scream and a hiss the figures vanished. A wisp of smoke rose from the locket as it lay, torn and empty, rendered harmless. Snape leaned against the desk for a long moment, hands clasped on the sword hilt.
When he finally reopened his eyes, it was to glare at Harry.
"You. Will. Not. Mention. This. To. ANYBODY," he grated.
"Uh, no. No, of course not," Harry agreed.
But as he followed Snape out of the office he added quietly to himself, You can't stop me thinking about it, though. Severus.
*
"You ssssummoned me, Sssseverus?" Lord Voldemort's high, cold voice held more than a touch of scorn. "You ssssummoned me?"
"I beg your pardon, my lord," Snape said, with a glance at his left forearm – still bare, still painful where he had tapped the Dark Mark with his wand. "But I bring you a gift."
He stepped aside to reveal Harry Potter kneeling in front of the gates of Hogwarts. A thick chain ran from the gates to an iron collar around his neck. His green eyes glared defiance from behind the glasses perched askew on the bridge of his nose.
Voldemort looked him up and down, a cruel smile on his thin lips. Then his attention sharpened as he saw the wand lying on the ground, just out of reach of Harry's outstretched hand.
Seeing the direction of Voldemort's gaze, Snape added, "More than one gift, in fact, my lord. Yes, that is the Elder Wand."
A terrible joy blazed on Voldemort's face. "Mine at last," he breathed. Then, with a suspicious glance at Snape, "How did you defeat him?"
"Not with my wand," Snape said quickly. "At the moment, the Elder Wand still acknowledges Potter as its master. You have no need to kill me to acquire it."
Voldemort laughed softly, a cruel, chilling laugh. "Well, Harry Potter," he said, "Shall we finish what we began all those months ago?"
And, snatching up the Elder Wand, he opened his mouth in triumph to destroy Potter once and for all with the killing curse.
But Harry was already on his feet, the chain falling from his neck, another wand in his hand, and his voice shouted out at the same moment.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
And the dream which Harry had had at Grimmauld Place finally came true, as Tom Riddle, hit by his own rebounding curse, fell dead at their feet, and the Elder Wand returned once more to Harry's hand.
*
Snape reached up and replaced the sword of Gryffindor in its old position in the Headmaster's office. "You were right, I didn't need this to kill Voldemort," he said. "The Elder Wand was all that was necessary." He gave Harry an unreadable look. "I didn't think you'd really give that up until I saw you return it to Dumbledore's tomb."
Harry shrugged. "Best place for it," he said. "It did its job when it killed Tom Riddle. My old holly wand is good enough for me."
"Not many people would do that," Snape said slowly. "Maybe I have misjudged you."
"I think we've both misjudged each other," Harry said. He hesitated, thinking of the photograph of Severus and Regulus he still had in his pocket. Should he show it to him? Should he give it to him? Judging by the looks on their faces in the photo, they had meant a lot to each other. And to lose Regulus in such a horrible way...
His mind made up, Harry pulled the photograph out of his pocket and wordlessly held it out.
Snape took it from him, looking puzzled. When he saw what it was he stiffened. "Where did you get this?"
"At Grimmauld Place, in Regulus Black's old room," Harry admitted. "I was looking for any clues to what happened to Slytherin's locket, and found this hidden behind a picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team."
Snape glared up at him, about to lash out – then paused. It didn't take a skilled Legilimens to read the expression on Harry's face.
"You must miss him," Harry said softly.
"I miss what we had," Snape admitted, looking back at the photograph. "But it was all so long ago, so much has happened since then." He added under his breath, "It's like looking at two different people."
Greatly daring, Harry reached out and put his hand on Snape's. "I wish I had someone like that."
Snape gave him an odd look. "Surely – Miss Weasley –"
Harry laughed. "Cho, Ginny – all part of growing up, finding out what I really want."
"And that would be –?" asked Snape, his voice roughening.
"You," Harry said simply, and squeezed Severus' hand.