'Asteria,

I know you are stubborn, but there are some things you need to keep in mind as well.

Now, I never would say this to you, but your mother would be rather hurt by the way you have been treating the last ever memory she has left for you. How I came upon this information of you having her letter, I would not reveal.

Though I am disappointed in you.

Whatever sentiment you have for keeping her letter somewhere, collecting dust, might be reasonable for someone else. But someone like you— someone who is meant to take a burden, a responsibility; all it is.. is a shame.

I might have come off as harsh, but all I mean to do is pull you back on track and make sure you are prepared for when times get harder. And a mere letter from Isabella should be the last thing testing the straws of your mental strength. There's much worse to come.

Therefore, I advise you to get yourself together and finish that matter at once.'

Harry opened the Marauder's Map once he had found an empty passage, and was relieved to find the corridor completely deserted.

He was not sure whether his chances of getting inside the room were better with Malfoy inside it or out, but at least his first attempt was not going to be complicated by the presence of Crabbe or Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl.. or anyone else for that matter, because there could be no other explanation than Ria's reasoning of the Polyjuice Potion.

And as he had told her, he was going to take the responsibility to find out what Malfoy was up to.

He closed his eyes as he approached the place where the Room of Requirement's door was concealed. He knew what he had to do; he had become most accomplished at it last year.

Concentrating with all his might he thought, I need to see what Malfoy's doing in here. I need to see what Malfoy's doing in here. I need to see what Malfoy's doing in here..

Three times he walked past the door; then, his heart pounding with excitement, he opened his eyes and faced it. But he was still looking at a stretch of mundanely blank wall.

He moved forward and gave it an experimental push. The stone remained solid and unyielding.

"Okay," said Harry aloud. "Okay.. I thought the wrong thing."

He pondered for a moment then set off again, eyes closed, concentrating as hard as he could. I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly.. I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly.

After three walks past, he opened his eyes expectantly. There was no door. "Oh, come off it, that was a clear instruction!" He told the wall irritably. "Fine.."

He thought hard for several minutes before striding off once more. I need you to become the place you become for Draco Malfoy.

He did not immediately open his eyes when he had finished his patrolling; he was listening hard, as though he might hear the door pop into existence. He heard nothing, however, except the distant twittering of birds outside.

He opened his eyes. There was still no door.

Harry swore like a sailor. Someone screamed. And looked around to see a gaggle of first years running back around the corner, apparently scared at the sudden outburst from the boy they had encountered.

Harry tried every other variation that he could think of for a whole hour, at the end of which he was forced to conclude that the room simply did not want to open for him.

Frustrated and annoyed, he set off for Defence Against the Dark Arts. "Late again, Potter," said Snape coldly, as Harry hurried into the candlelit classroom. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry scowled at Snape as he looked around for someone familiar. Really, half the class was still on its feet, taking out books and organising their things. He could not be much later than any of them.

Wait. "Where's Ria?"

The question came out louder than intended, and Snape passed a glare. "Another five."

Somehow holding back his tongue, Harry settled down beside Ron. "You two seen her?" He asked, but Ron and Hermione only shook their heads.

"Before we start, I want your dementor essays," said Snape, waving his wand carelessly, so that twenty-five scrolls of parchment soared into the air and landed in a neat pile on his desk.

"And I hope for your sakes, they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page— What is it, Mr. Finnigan?"

"Sir," said Seamus, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius—"

"No, there wasn't," said Snape in a bored voice.

"But sir, I heard people talking—"

"If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher."

"I thought Snape and Mundungus were on the same side," muttered Harry to Ron and Hermione. "Shouldn't he be upset Mundungus has been arrested—"

"But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject," said Snape, pointing suddenly at the back of the room, his black eyes fixed on Harry. "Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost."

The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to recall what Dumbledore had told him the night that they had gone to visit Slughorn.

"Er— well ghosts are transparent—"

"Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent.'"

Pansy Parkinson let out a rather nasty giggle. Several other people were smirking.

Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid—"

"A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Snape. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent."

"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a look to see if it's solid, aren't we? We're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?' "

There was a ripple of laughter, instantly suppressed by the look Snape gave the class.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room."

"No!" whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry's arm as he opened his mouth furiously. "There's no point, you'll just end up in detention again, leave it!"

"Now open your books to page two hundred and thirteen," said Snape, smirking a little, "and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse.."

Ron was very subdued all through the class. When the bell sounded at the end of the lesson, Lavender caught up with them (Hermione mysteriously melted out of sight as she approached) and abused Snape hotly for his jibe about Ron's Apparition. And Harry took the cue.

"I'll meet you in the courtyard in a minute." He said, lagging behind and looking for Ria's friends instead because for some reason, she hadn't been there in the class.

He approached the two, who appeared rather quiet and uninterested without the presence of the third one. "Zabini! Nott!"

They turned around. "Oh, Potter." Theodore acknowledged.

"Hey!" He managed a quick smile, continuing to walk out the corridor with them. "I was wondering—"

"Ria didn't attend today's class, yes." said Blaise, as if he had been expecting it. "She's fine though. She just got into another disagreement with Snape. Didn't attend his class out of sheer pettiness, so nothing to worry about." He answered, remembering this morning a bit too vividly.

"How dare you—"

"Ria—" For someone much smaller than him, she was really hard to hold back.

The door to his office burst open, and Snape stared up from his chair. "Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do and what not to?!"

"Ria, please—"

"Don't you dare come near me, Blaise!"

"Can't you two— I don't know— talk it out or something?" He suggested.

"Talk it out.. right." She laughed mockingly, looking at Snape again. "Would have talked it out if he hadn't decided to be such a bitch about it!"

But he only crossed his arms. "Was I wrong?"

"Yes— Merlin, yes!" She huffed. "You might be my godfather— whatever— but how come you don't seem to know one damn thing about me? How come you never— ever— feel some fucking sympathy for me when I fucking need it?"

"Oh.. do you want sympathy now?" His tone was mocking. It made anger flare through her again.

"No. No, I don't need anything from you— now, or ever again!" She bellowed. "Whatever Mum left for me is my damn business! How dare you try to guilt trip me— trying to be some goody-two-shoes giving me advice about what I should do as my responsibility— acting like you haven't done things only for and out of your own fucking selfishness!"

Blaise bared his teeth at the harshness. "That's a bit—"

"—acting like you were innocent all along when all you were, was a bloody bigot! Which you still are, by the way— so no! You don't get to tell me how to differentiate between good and bad— and responsible and irresponsible, like you know too well!"

"Like I said— you don't know one thing about me." She stood right in front of his table, throwing an accusatory finger at him as she repeated her words like a warning. "Mum left a letter for me— fine! Whatever I do with it, whenever I do it.. you don't get to tell me like I don't know any better."

Severus only stared at her, as if the words had little effect, as if she didn't have tears in her eyes.. As if the room wasn't quivering with her fury.

"I see.." He nodded. "My words seem to have offended you. Though I do hope you take my advice—"

And it only took a blink of an eye before Ria had her wand pointed in his direction.

"Stupefy."

Blaise pursed his lips. "I don't want to get too much into detail but— erm— they had an argument over some letter from Ms. Diggory."

Harry blinked, staring at the floor with thought. "Ray?"

Ria had told him already. She hadn't received any letter. But his suspicion had been right.

When Harry caught up with Ron again, he quickly shook Lavender off by making a detour into the boys' bathroom with him. And the redhead couldn't help but scowl at Snape's comment again and again.

"Snape's right, though, isn't he?" he said finally, after staring into a cracked mirror for a minute or two. "I dunno whether it's worth me taking the test. I just can't get the hang of Apparition."

"You might as well do the extra practice sessions in Hogsmeade and see where they get you," said Harry reasonably. "It'll be more interesting than trying to get into a stupid hoop anyway. Then, if you're still not— you know— as good as you'd like to be, you can postpone the test, do it with me over the summ—! Myrtle, this is the boys' bathroom!"

The ghost of a girl had risen out of the toilet in a cubicle behind them and was now floating in midair, staring at them through thick, white, round glasses.

"Oh," she said glumly. "It's you two."

"Who were you expecting?" said Ron, looking at her in the mirror.

"Nobody," said Myrtle, picking moodily at a spot on her chin. "He said he'd come back and see me, but then you said you'd pop in and visit me too," she gave Harry a reproachful look. "And I haven't seen you for months and months. I've learned not to expect too much from boys.. Not from boys that whine about other girls, at that."

"I thought you lived in that girls' bathroom?" questioned Harry, ignoring her last comment.

"I do," she said, with a sulky little shrug, "but that doesn't mean I can't visit other places. I came and saw you in your bath once, remember?"

"Vividly," said Harry, unblinking.

"And I know he was a bit heartbroken over some girl.. But I thought he liked me," she said plaintively. "Maybe if you two left, he'd come back again. We had lots in common. I'm sure he felt it.." She looked hopefully toward the door.

"When you say you had lots in common," said Ron, sounding rather amused now, "d'you mean he lives in an S-bend too?"

"No," said Myrtle defiantly, her voice echoing loudly around the old tiled bathroom. "I mean he's sensitive, people bully him too, and he feels lonely and hasn't got anybody to talk to, and he's not afraid to show his feelings and cry!"

"There's been a boy in here crying?" said Harry curiously. "A young boy?"

"Never you mind!" said Myrtle, her small, leaky eyes fixed on Ron, who was now definitely grinning. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, and I'll take his secret to the—"

"— not the grave, surely?" said Ron with a snort. "The sewers, maybe.."

Myrtle gave a howl of rage and dived back into the toilet, causing water to slop over the sides and onto the floor.

"You know, that was kind of mean." Harry commented. "No wonder Ginny got you mad over that dating argument you two had. Whatever chances you'd have with a girl, you'd just offend her with that sharp tongue—"

A splash of water hit his face. "What— it's the truth!"

Ron scoffed. "As if you haven't offended every other girl who wasn't Ria— hell, you once managed to offend even her. And she's like— the most tolerant person I've known!"

"Most tolerant?"

"Yeah— if she can tolerate Malfoy and Snape for as long as she did, then she can tolerate anyone!"

Harry hated to agree with Ron, but nodded anyway as he wiped his glasses clean. But as they left the bathroom, he was carried away by what Myrtle had said.

A boy who cried in front of her? Came to meet her, only to talk about some other girl? And was bullied?

Yeah, that couldn't be Malfoy.

..or could it?

The following weekend, Ron joined Hermione and the rest of the sixth-years who would turn seventeen in time to take the test in a fortnight.

Harry felt rather jealous watching them all get ready to go into the village. Even Ria, Amelia, Zabini and Nott were amongst the eligible crowd, while he had to sulk away alone in the castle.

He missed making trips there, and it was a particularly fine spring day, one of the first clear skies they had seen in a long time. However, dragging himself out of the sulk, he decided to use the time to attempt another assault on the Room of Requirement.

But of course, that didn't work.

Again.

He then approached the boys' bathroom, hoping to find any sign of Myrtle or her haunting cries.. or the other boy's cries, like she had mentioned. But in vain, he returned to his room with even more sulk than before. Though an unfamiliar piece of parchment on his desk caught his attention.

'Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione,

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. Even Ria would have.. I've sent her a note too. It would mean a lot to me if you'd all nip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

Hagrid.'

"Look at this," said Harry, handing the note to Hermione once the two returned.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous.

"He's mental!" he said furiously. "That thing told its mates to eat Harry and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"

"It's not just that," said Hermione. "He's asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught."

"We've been down to see him by night before," said Harry.

"Yes, but for something like this?" said Hermione. "We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him—"

"— I'd want to go even less," said Ron firmly. "You didn't meet him, Hermione. Neither did Ria. But believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot."

"Speaking of Ria.." Hermione had a bit of strain in her expression. "Did she seem a bit sulky today at the Apparition test?" she said to Ron.

"Like.. like normal sulky, or sulky sulky?" He questioned.

She clicked her tongue. "Sulkier than usual, Ronald, obviously."

"Oh.. yeah, actually, she did." said Ron. "She seems down.. for the past few days, don't you think?"

"Past few days.." Harry wondered quietly.. since her supposed argument with Snape.

"Yeah.. it's as if something's been bothering her." said Hermione with a slight frown. "I'm kind of worried about her."

Harry nodded. They hadn't talked much either. A simple argument couldn't affect her that much, could it? There must be more to it.

Instead of adding more to it, he only took Hagrid's note back and stared down at all the inky blotches all over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment.

"Harry, you can't be thinking of going," said Hermione, once she noticed. "It's such a pointless thing to get detention for."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I s'pose Hagrid will have to bury Aragog without us."

"Yes, he will," she said, looking relieved. "Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests. Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!"

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" said Harry bitterly.

"Lucky.." said Ron suddenly. "Harry, that's it— get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your lucky potion!"

"Ron, that's— that's it!" said Hermione, sounding stunned. "Of course! Why didn't I think of it?"

Harry stared at them both. "Felix Felicis?" he said. "I dunno.. I was sort of saving it.."

"What for?" demanded Ron incredulously.

"What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry did not answer. Even he didn't know what he was saving it specifically for. To get back with Ria? To miraculously find an answer to all of her questions? To somehow find a solution to break the Azrael's Curse?

"Harry? Are you still with us?" asked Hermione.

"Wha—? Yeah, of course," he said, pulling himself together. "Well.. okay. If I can't get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then," said Hermione briskly, getting to her feet and performing a graceful pirouette. "Destination... determination... deliberation... " she murmured.

"Oh, stop that," Ron begged her, "I feel sick enough as it is— quick, hide me!"

"It isn't Lavender!" said Hermione impatiently, as another couple of girls appeared in the courtyard and Ron dived behind her.

Ron and Hermione returned late in the afternoon.

Harry!" cried Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole. "Harry, I passed!"

"Well done!" he said. "And Ron?"

"He.. he just failed," whispered Hermione, as Ron came slouching into the room looking most morose. "It was really unlucky, a tiny thing, the examiner just spotted that he'd left half an eyebrow behind.. How did it go with Slughorn?"

"No joy," said Harry, as Ron joined them. "Bad luck, mate, but you'll pass next time we can take it together."

"Yeah, I s'pose," said Ron grumpily. "But half an eyebrow! Like that matters! Even Ria passed— and she looked like she was barely interested! I was completely into it too— you know?"

"I know," said Hermione soothingly, "it does seem really harsh.."

They spent most of their dinner roundly abusing the Apparition examiner, and Ron looked fractionally more cheerful by the time they set off back to the common room, now discussing the continuing problem of Slughorn and the memory.

"So, Harry— you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah, I s'pose I'd better," He nodded with compliance. "I don't reckon I'll need all of it, not twelve hours' worth, it can't take all night. I'll just take a mouthful. Two or three hours should do it."

"It's a great feeling when you take it," said Ron reminiscently. "Like you can't do anything wrong."

"What are you talking about?" said Hermione, laughing. "You've never taken any!"

"Yeah, but I thought I had, didn't I?" he said, as though explaining the obvious. "Same difference really."

As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great Hall and knew that he liked to take time over meals, they lingered for a while in the common room, the plan being that Harry should go to Slughorn's office once the teacher had had time to get back there.

Before the sun had sunk to the level of the treetops in the Forbidden Forest, Harry took his time to go to Ria's dorm. As much as he had a feeling that he was going to need the Invisibility Cloak, he also wanted to— sort of— check on Ria, if he could.

Though once he reached there, he could see Cassandra Trelawney sitting upright in her portrait, very vigilant, instead of her usual cool, mystic manner. "Hey Cassan—"

"No."

He looked dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"Cannot grant you entry, Harry." She said.

"What? Why?" He asked.

"Asteria's orders."

"Ria's orders— She told you to not let me in?" He asked with disbelief.

"What— No!" The Seer laughed, shaking her head. "No, she told me to not let anyone in."

Harry huffed. "Right— and since when did you take her orders?"

"Since she almost set fire to my portrait, boy." She said in a rather serious tone.

"Right, okay— I need to take something though." He told her. "That's with her. Inside. So, please, let me in."

Cassandra shook her head again. "Cannot do."

"Fine. At least— let her know I'm here, and ask her to bring my cloak."

"She's sleeping." She answered.

Frustration began stirring inside him. "Cassandra— alright, tell me the truth. Is she okay?"

She chuckled. "Oh, why wouldn't she be?" She retorted. "She's fine. Just sleeping. Only asked me to guard her.. Not to let anyone suspicious in."

Harry tilted his head in question, with the most ridiculous expression on his face. "Suspicious? I— Cassandra, come on! It's me!"

She eyed him up and down. "How do I know you are not some imposter posing as Harry Potter?"

Harry pinched at the bridge of his nose. What was this madness? Why was she being so difficult?

And why on earth would he be some imposter?

As a blessing in disguise though, a familiar meow fell on his ears. And he looked down to find Cassie rubbing against his leg.

"Oh, hey Cass. Been a while since I last saw you, huh?" He crouched down, fondly scratching her ear. She purred happily, and he looked up at Cassandra's portrait. "See? She recognises me. I'm not an imposter."

The Seer did not let go of her stern expression, but opened the door anyway.

"Thank you!" He said, slightly exasperated as he carried Cassie inside.

The door to Ria's room was slightly open, so he entered. Turns out Cassandra had been telling the truth. The lights were out, and Ria was curled up on her side on the bed, wrapped in her blanket.

Harry took cautious steps inside and let the purring cat in his arms down on the floor. "Now.. could you help me find where Ria kept the cloak?" He whispered.

She instantly zoomed under the bed, and Harry crouched down, trying to feel the familiar fabric with his hand. He smiled, taking it out and hanging the Invisibility Cloak on his shoulder. "Thank you, love." He said to Cassie, who now sat at the end of Ria's bed.

Though he couldn't take the Cloak just like that. He didn't want Ria to panic, thinking she had lost it or something.

He walked to her desk, and took a spare piece of parchment, letting her know he had taken it while she was asleep, that it had been urgent.

Ria stirred, groaning quietly, and Harry turned, watching as some sort of strain pulled her eyebrows together. He waited a moment before moving, to see if she'd wake up, but didn't. A sigh of relief left Harry, and he walked closer to her, crouching down so he could see her face properly.

He had no idea what had been bothering her, what had caused the bags under her eyes to reappear, what had made her curl up like a child again.

Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face and placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb tracing the swell of it.

She stirred again, and Harry almost retrieved his hand, but then she sighed, mumbling away incoherent words in her sleep. And the tension left his body.

He didn't stay for long, of course. He still had to retrieve Slughorn's memory.

Harry, Ron and Hermione decided the moment had come, and after checking carefully that Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all in the common room, sneaked up to the boys' dormitory.

Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of his trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle. "Well, here goes," he said, raising the little bottle and taking a carefully measured gulp.

They waited for a while, and then— "What does it feel like?" whispered Hermione.

Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all.. and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy.

He got to his feet, smiling, brimming with confidence. "Excellent," he said. "Really excellent. Right.. I'm going down to Hagrid's."

What?" said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast.

"No, Harry— you've got to go and see Slughorn, remember?" said Hermione.

"No," he grinned confidently. "I'm going to Hagrid's, I've got a good feeling about going to Hagrid's."

"You've got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" asked Ron, looking stunned.

"Yeah," he said, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak. "I feel like it's the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?"

"No," said Ron and Hermione together, both looking positively alarmed now.

"This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?" said Hermione anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. "You haven't got another little bottle full of— I don't know—"

"Essence of Insanity?" suggested Ron. He only laughed though, and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.

"Trust me," he said. "I know what I'm doing.. or at least Felix does." And he strolled confidently to the door.

He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him. At the foot of the stairs, Harry slid through the open door.

"What were you doing up there with her?" shrieked Lavender Brown, staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together from the boys' dormitories. Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room away from them.

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it, and Harry was able to slip between them. As he did so, he brushed accidentally against Ginny.

"Don't push me, please, Dean," she said, sounding annoyed. "You're always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own.." The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard Dean make an angry retort.

Harry strode off through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for he met nobody on his way, but this did not surprise him in the slightest: This evening, he was the luckiest person at Hogwarts.

As he proceeded to Hagrid's hut, he came upon a familiar figure outside the Greenhouse. It was Professor Slughorn, hunched over a plant with curly tendrils. Stealthily, he reached over and snipped a leaf or two with utmost care.

And Harry had the sudden urge to reveal himself.

He removed the Invisibility Cloak, and Slughorn jumped. "Merlin's beard, Harry!"

"Sorry, sir. I should've announced myself." He could hardly contain his smile. "Cleared my throat. Coughed. You probably feared I was Madam Sprout.

"Well, yes, actually—" He looked slightly taken aback. "Why would you think that?"

Harry shrugged. "Just the general behaviour, sir. The sneaking around. The jumping when you saw me. By the way, those Tentacular leaves— they're quite valuable, aren't they?"

Slughorn sighed happily as he placed them in a container. "Ten galleons a leaf to the right buyer— not that I'm familiar with such back alley transactions. One hears rumours is all." He chuckled. "My own interests are purely academic, of course.

Harry nodded, looking at the plant. "Personally, these plants have always kind of freaked me out." He gave a little shudder.

Slughorn cocked his head, studying the boy. "Exactly how did you get out of the castle, Harry?"

"Through the front doors, sir." He answered, as though it was common knowledge. "I'm off to Hagrid's, you see. He's a very dear friend, and I have to pay him a visit. So if you don't mind, I'll be going—"

"Harry!"

He stopped, turning to him. "Sir?"

"It's nearly nightfall." He reasoned. "Surely you realise I can't allow you to roam the grounds all by yourself."

"Well, but sir— it's this giant spider that Hagrid's had for years.. It lived in the forest.. It could talk and everything—"

The words seemed to have piqued Slughorn's interest. "I heard rumours there were acromantulas in the forest," he said softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. "It's true, then?"

"Yes," said Harry, nodding. "But this one, Aragog, the first one Hagrid ever got; it died last night. He's devastated. He wants company while he buries it and I said I'd go."

The changing expression on Slughorn's face told Harry clearly what he had to do.

"Well, I know it is not exactly ideal of you to let me go like this, past curfew.. but," he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, "well, you could come along, Professor. Hagrid would probably be really pleased. And we could give Aragog a better send-off, you know.."

That had been enough. And now Harry already had Slughorn following him down the hills, to Hagrid's hut.

When they reached, he heard him huff. "Merlin's beard.."

In front of them was Hagrid, and Aragog's massive body resting upside down.

"Is that an actual Acromantula?"

"A dead one, I think, sir."

Hagrid looked up, frowning. "'Arry. 'Orace."

"My god, dear man." said Slughorn. "How did you ever manage to befriend it?

Hagrid sniffed. "Me oldest friend, 'e was.." Fang whined beside him. "Seriously misunderstood creatures— spiders. It's the eyes, I reckon. Unnerve people."

"Not to mention the pincers." Harry made a clicking sound, making a little claw motion with his hands to match it.

"I reckon that too.." Hagrid sighed. "How'd yeh get outta the castle anyways?"

Harry pointed back to the castle. "Through the front doors. I also had the Cloak."

"Hagrid. I wouldn't want to be indelicate—" Slughorn finally broke his long desired silence. "But Acromantula venom is uncommonly rare and— well— if you wouldn't mind my extracting a vial or two— purely for academic pursuits, of course.."

Hagrid gave it a moment of thought. "Don' suppose it's doin' 'im any good, izzit?"

Slughorn looked rather delighted. "My thoughts exactly!" He walked towards the dead acromantula, rummaging through his pockets. "Always carry a few spare ampoules for just such occasions. Old Potion Master's habit, you know.."

Harry and Hagrid watched as Slughorn extracted the venom from his pincers. "Wish yeh coulda seen 'im in 'is prime," said the half-giant with a bit of pride. "Magnificent 'e was. Jus' magnificent.."

He blinked wildly, then took out a handkerchief and snorted loudly into it. Slughorn looked up, studying Hagrid's sorry expression with empathy before stepping away. "Why don't I say a few words? I trust he had a family?" He asked.

Harry scoffed rather softly. "Oh yeah.."

Slughorn cleared his throat. "Farewell.."

"Aragog." Hagrid howled.

The Professor nodded. "Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids. Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your Forest home." Fang howled. "May your many-eyed descendents ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained."

Hagrid cried. "Tha' was... tha' was... beautiful." He said, wiping his eyes. He finally walked to Aragog then, studying him lovingly, before putting a shoulder to the big beast's body and sending him tumbling into the freshly-dug grave beside with a loud thunk.

"And Odo the hero, they bore him back home.."

Harry didn't know how, but the funeral had somehow ended with the two men getting drunk and singing loudly, as they sat at the massive kitchen table, which was strewn with empty wine bottles.

"To the place he'd known as a lad,
They laid him to rest with his hat inside out
and his wand snapped in two, which was sad.."

As they finished, both men laughed, while Hagrid topped off everyone's mug with a bit more wine. Harry brought his mug to his lap before slyly pouring it into the bucket at his feet. He was very much sober and focus, unlike those two.

"I had 'im from an egg, yeh know," started Hagrid. "Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. No bigger'n a Pekinese."

Slughorn smiled. "Sweet. I once had a fish. Francis. Lovely little thing. One day I came downstairs and he'd vanished." He brought his fists together and then opened them with wonder. "Poof."

Hagrid blinked. "Tha's odd."

"Isn't it?" He retorted. "That's life, I suppose. One goes along and then.. poof."

"Poof."

"Poof." Harry repeated.

They all nodded soberly. Slughorn's eyes rose to the ceiling. "That's never unicorn hair, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked up, reeling a bit before nodding in response.

Slughorn gasped. "But my dear chap, do you know how much that's worth?"

He shook his head. "No idea.. no idea at all.."

With a thud, Hagrid's great shaggy head hit the table, and a loud snores began erupting. Harry smiled at him before turning to Slughorn, but he only averted his eyes, as if suddenly nervous.

Harry waited, staring outside the window. And then..

"It was a student who gave me Francis." Slughorn said, an expression of sweet nostalgia on his face. "One spring afternoon I discovered a bowl upon my desk with a few inches of clear water."

"There was a flower petal floating upon the surface. As I watched, the petal sank, but just before it touched the bottom... it transformed into a wee fish" He grinned. "It was beautiful magic, wondrous to behold." He then looked at Harry. "The petal had come from a lily."

Harry looked up at him, an obvious question swimming in his eyes. And Slughorn nodded. "Your mother."

"The day I came downstairs, the day I found the bowl empty.. was the day she.." His words stumbled, pain etched on his face.

"I know what you want." He said with acceptance. "But I can't give it to you. It will ruin me.."

Harry studied Slughorn for a moment, thinking, then spoke up.

"Do you know why I survived? The night I got this." He pointed to his scar. "Because of her." "Because she sacrificed herself. Because she refused to step aside. Because her love was more powerful than Voldemort."

Slughorn began to shake his head. "Please don't say his—"

"I'm not afraid of the name, Professor," said Harry, very clearly. "And I'm not afraid of him. And you shouldn't be either."

Slughorn gazed outside the window. A brief silence prevailed, before Harry felt another nudge from Felix.

"Professor. I'm going to tell you something, something others have only guessed at." He looked at Harry again. "It's true. I am the Chosen One."

Slughorn's eyes widen a bit. "Only I can kill him. But in order to do so, I need to know what Tom Riddle asked you that night in your office all those years ago." He sighed. "And I need to know what you told him."

Slughorn's eyes welled with tears, his hands trembling. "Be brave, Professor." Harry encouraged with all his sincerity. "Be brave like my mother. Otherwise you disgrace her. Otherwise she died for nothing. Otherwise, the bowl remains empty forever."

Slughorn took a deep breath before looking through his pocket. "Don't think too badly of me once you've seen it." He fished out a tiny vial. "You don't know what he was like... even then."

He raised his wand to his temple, and withdrew a long silver strand. Harry helped him steady his hand, finally caging his memory in the vial.

Harry pushed open the door. "Good gracious, Harry," said Dumbledore in surprise. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Dumbledore. "Sir— I've got it. I've got the memory from Slughorn."

For a moment or two, the headmaster looked stunned. Then a wide smile appeared on his face. "Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!"

All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, he hurried around his desk, took the bottle with Slughorn's memory in his uninjured hand, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve.

Once the string fell into, they were taken back to a familiar scene again, with a much younger Slughorn, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystalized pineapple. And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.

The scene continued like it had before.. in that fake memory, and then they arrived at that one crucial point again.

"..And I read something rather odd, about a rare bit of magic, and thought perhaps you could illuminate me. It's called.. as I remember, a Horcrux."

Slughorn's smile faltered, but he didn't seem to appear angry, like in that tampered memory. "I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom, but that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed."

"Yes, sir. Which is why I came to you." He answered. "I mean no disrespect to the rest of the staff, but I thought if anyone could tell me.. it would be you. The others might misunderstand."

Slughorn frowned. "A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

Riddle tilted his head. "But I don't understand how that works, sir."

"One splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object." answered Slughorn. "By doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed."

"Protected?"

The Potions master nodded. "That part of your soul that was hidden, lives on. In other words, you cannot die."

Riddle nodded, turning away and staring in the mirror instead, at himself. "How does one split his soul, sir?"

"I think you can guess the answer to that, Tom."

"Murder." He uttered.

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature. After, one is never the same."

"Out of curiosity, sir—" Riddle spoke again, with a bit of child-like curiosity. "Can you only split your soul once? For instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number—"

"Seven! Merlin's beard, Tom!" exclaimed Slugorn. "Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces.. This is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic.."

He grinned. "Of course, sir."

There was a brief silence among the two of them after the memory ended, then Dumbledore spoke.

"Well, Harry," he said, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

"He succeeded, didn't he, sir?" asked Harry. "He made a Horcrux? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?"

"A bit.. or more," said Dumbledore, his tone grim. "He's just told us."

"Seven." He said with realisation. But there was something resembling impending doom that laced his voice. "He made seven— the most powerfully magical number, he said."

"Yes— but there aren't seven that still remain." He corrected him. "Seven parts of his soul— yes, but six Horcruxes. The seventh part, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all."

"That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack— the piece that lives in his body."

"But the six Horcruxes, then," said Harry, a little desperately, "how are we supposed to find them?"

"You are forgetting.. you have already destroyed one of them. And I have destroyed another."

Harry furrowed his brows. "You heard Voldemort: What he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have given him that information."

"As far as I know— as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew— no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two." Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts, "Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul."

"You did?"

"You handed it to me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The diary, Riddle's diary, the one giving instructions on how to reopen the Chamber of Secrets."

He caught the surprise on Harry's face. "It's a Horcrux, yes. Four years ago, when you saved Ginny Weasley's life in the Chamber of Secrets, when you brought me this—" He opened the drawer at his desk and Harry followed him, finding two very familiar objects inside: a diary and a ring.

"— I knew. This was a different kind of magic. Very dark. Very powerful. But until tonight, I had no idea just how powerful.."

"And the ring..?" Harry asked. He had just seen it on Riddle's finger.

"Belonged to Voldemort's mother." He answered. "It was difficult to find and.. even more difficult to destroy." He raised his injured hand.

"But if you could find them all." Harry sounded desperate again. "If you did destroy each Horcrux.."

"One might destroy Voldemort."

"Might?"

"Are you forgetting the Seer's Curse, Harry?"

He didn't say anything. For a moment, honestly, he had.

"Unless we find out what it is, there's no ultimate end to Voldemort." answered Dumbledore. "Though getting rid of the Horcruxes would make it much easier. And if I remember Asteria's words correctly— she has taken responsibility to study Madam Lagarde's life. So I advise you to put your focus here."

Harry reached out for the ring. "But how would you find them? They could be hidden anywhere, couldn't they?"

Dumbledore nodded. "True. But magic, especially Dark magic.."

Harry's finger touched the cold metal, and an incomprehensible flash of something dizzied his brain, just for a moment. He shook his head, not knowing whether it was something he saw.. or something he felt.

"..leaves traces." Dumbledore mumbled, looking at him with a strange expression.

Harry looked up, then. "It's where you've been going, isn't it, sir? When you leave the school."

"Yes." He nodded, as if coming back to his senses. "And I think.. perhaps.. I may have found another."

"But this time I cannot hope to destroy it alone." Harry tried to read his expression, but once again, like every other time, could not. "Once again, I shall ask too much of you."

The corridors were clear when Harry was walking back to his dorm. Though he wasn't in much hurry to get back. He had the Invisibility Cloak hiding him. So he took his time, strolling in the cooling breeze.

He thought, for the first time, that he knew how Ria felt.

She had told him often, how it was being a Seer. It was the overwhelming amount of information, of details, that made her life difficult. It made her forget living her daily life sometimes, trying to find clues everywhere, trying to plan and plot and think about what to do next.

He should feel a bit accomplished, at least, knowing he had pulled off a rather difficult but necessary task. Contrary to that, he felt rather empty.

He wouldn't have any lessons now. He didn't have to do anything after this.. not until Dumbledore told him to anyway.. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to go to his room and rest till he could.

Harry stopped in his tracks, sighing as he leaned his arms on the railing and looked outside. He saw the wind running through the flowy grass, making the trees sway, and felt like it was all he had seen for the past few days. He looked up then, and a strange, sudden delight pierced at his heart.

The stars are out tonight.

He hadn't seen them in a while.

Without needing to give it a proper thought, he let his feet carry him. They carried him to the opposite direction to where the Gryffindor common room was. They carried him up the stairs of a familiar tower.

And they let him stop them when he saw a familiar girl at a familiar spot, curled into herself, crying into her hands.

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