- 12Â -
You Can Never Go Home
All my life I never really knew me till today
Now I know why
I'm just another step along the way
Weep no more for treasures
You've been searching for in vain
'Cause the truth is gently falling
With the rain
- The Moody Blues
o o
o
"Headmaster, how long have you known I was a horcrux?"
Albus Dumbledore noted the fire in the eyes of Harry Potter and the fierce grip on the chair he stood behind. He gazed at the young man questioning him defiantly, marveling how Harry always managed to not only exceed expectations but blast them to tiny bits.
"To partially answer your question, Harry," Dumbledore said, "I'm not entirely sure that you are. If I may continue with questions of my own - what makes you think you are a horcrux, and where did you learn of the existence of such things?"
Harry straightened. "You think I might not be a horcrux?"
"I mentioned at our last meeting that we are far beyond proven knowledge, and that is a topic that we will discuss at length. However, I would like for you to indulge my curiosity for the moment."
Harry sighed and plopped into the chair he had been throttling. "You had been away so long, and I felt I should be doing research on my own - you know, where we left off with the Gaunts, so I - erm - called Tom's mum with the ring."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. "Ingenious! What did she reveal to you?"
"First off, we noted - Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there - that she had a very distorted view of her son's actions. She was always blaming someone else - the orphanage, the bullying kids, Hogwarts students and staff, wizarding society, you name it -"
"As if her child could do no wrong?"
"Yeah! Even up to the point where he was forced to divide himself into pieces seven times."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Seven times, she said? You are certain of this?"
Harry nodded. "And she said a child was sent to destroy him and now carries one of those pieces as well… and they can only be separated by death."
Dumbledore sat back and stroked his beard in thought. "I understand how this must have greatly disturbed you, Harry. Before we jump to conclusions, however, let us remind ourselves that the truth as Merope views it is not always aligned with reality, as you have already noted. Was she your only source of information?"
"No, I had visited with Sirius right after you gave me the ring - he said something about his younger brother Regulus and Kreacher being heroes, so I called Kreacher and he told me about how they rescued a locket from a cave. Later, I called Regulus and he told me what he knew about horcruxes."
After Harry related the full story, Dumbledore was flabbergasted. "This is remarkable news, Harry. I have been pursuing the location of this cave for some time. I am quite pleased to abandon that avenue of inquiry. Where is this locket now?"
"We hid it in the Room of Requirement. While I was looking for a good place to stash it, we came across an old tiara that had the same dark magic, so we put them together. It wasn't until after we talked to Regulus that we knew what they were."
"You found another horcrux? Here at Hogwarts? My word, Harry, this is nothing short of phenomenal!"
Dumbledore sat for a moment and considered these new developments.
"Harry, my original intent this evening was to show you specific memories regarding Tom - when I visited the orphanage where he was raised and first informed him he was a wizard, along with scenes from his time here at Hogwarts. They are very important, but I think I will save those for a future session. Tonight, we shall visit him as he collected these 'trinkets' as you have called them. The first - we shall return to the cottage of the Gaunts."
Dumbledore selected a memory vial and tipped it into the pensieve, and then together he and Harry lowered their faces into the basin, finding themselves once again in the Gaunt shack, darker and even filthier than before. Morfin - the owner of the memory - recognized the teenage Tom Riddle as his sister's son even in his semi-drunken state, ranting in parseltongue and revealing to the young wizard much more than he probably realized.
The memory went dark after a very short time, and Dumbledore related that when Morfin awoke he confessed to the murders of the entire Riddle family. Ministry investigators had no reason to doubt him, only later was Dumbledore able to sift through the minutiae to determine the truth - Tom had murdered his father and grandparents with the killing curse and planted memories of the event in his uncle's head. By the time Dumbledore started working to correct the injustice, Morfin had died in Azkaban, his biggest complaint being the loss of his father's ring.
"So Tom stole the Peverell ring from Morfin," said Harry, "while he framed his uncle for the murder of his muggle relatives that he committed himself."
"A concise and accurate summary, yes."
"He must have been very good at memory charms, even at school, to be able to pull that off."
"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Tom was likely the most impressive student to pass through Hogwarts during my tenure as professor, and expectations for him were very high. Imagine our surprise when he found employment - not at a prestigious Ministry department - but at the shop of Borgin and Burkes, with which I believe you have some familiarity."
"Tom worked in the shop trading in dark artifacts?"
"Yes, and I believe we may just learn the identity of the last piece of Tom's puzzle."
Once again they dipped their faces into the pensieve into which Dumbledore had added a different vial full of someone else's past recollections.
This time the memory belonged to a tiny and ancient house-elf named Hokey, who served an equally ancient and not-so-tiny woman in lurid pink robes named Hepzibah Smith, whose appearance was what Harry imagined Delores Umbridge might be like in another century - possibly two. Hokey was doing her best to make her mistress more attractive for a male visitor - a fruitless exercise, thought Harry, who personally felt that Ms. Smith had far exceeded her "Romance by:" expiry date.
Of course, the visitor turned out to be none other than Tom Riddle, representative of Borgin and Burkes, who was indeed playing a game of seduction - not in the romantic sense, but attempting to acquire precious heirlooms, such as a cup made by Helga Hufflepuff, a distant ancestor of the Smith family. Hepzibah unwisely dangled it before him, not realizing how it would tempt him, but then - even more foolishly, brought out the locket of Salazar Slytherin while making disparaging comments about the woman from whom Burke had bought it many years before.
Hepzibah did not see the fire in the eyes of the young Voldemort, unknowingly insulting his own mother, until it was too late. She convinced herself it was a trick of the light, but had the house-elf quickly return the items to their hiding places.
It was little surprise to Harry that Hepzibah Smith was found dead two days later, and Hokey the house elf had confessed to accidentally poisoning her.
"So Tom used the same trick to murder another victim, setting up someone else to conveniently confess to the crime. No doubt the Ministry didn't bother to investigate further, since it was only a careless old house-elf, right?"
"Yes," agreed Dumbledore, "you are well aware of their attitudes toward those they consider lesser beings."
"And the locket and the cup both disappeared?"
"It was some time before their absence was confirmed, but yes, they were gone, along with the handsome young clerk who had frequently called upon her, not to be seen again for many years."
Harry leaned forward. "That's the locket that Merope wore - the one that Kreature retrieved from the cave. So that cup with the badger of Hufflepuff must be the last horcrux to locate?"
"Yes, that was my assumption as well."
"How are we supposed to find it?"
"I believe that Tom is - as are most of us - a creature of habit. If we can determine a pattern in his hiding places, we may establish locations worth investigating. You said the locket was hidden in a cave, one where I believe Tom visited as a youth during his days at the orphanage and possibly terrorized some of his peers."
Apprehensive, Harry said, "He didn't kill any of them, did he?"
"Not to my knowledge, but something happened there that none of the other children would talk about."
Harry shook his head, not wanting to imagine what sort of nightmares Tom visited upon his fellow orphans. "Where did you find the ring? It was a horcrux, too, wasn't it?"
Dumbledore nodded. "It was, and cleverly enchanted to entice the finder to desire slipping it on. Without my prodigious magical skills and Professor Snape's advanced knowledge of dark curses, it very well could have been the last thing I ever did."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore's withered hand. "But - you couldn't cure it."
"No, we could not," said Dumbledore quietly. "You have probably already surmised that my time here is limited."
Harry looked up at Dumbledore's worry-lined face. "Yes, sir."
"Back to the point, I discovered the ring in the ruins of the Gaunt cottage, his mother's former home."
Harry nodded. "Then there's that tiara I found here, and Lucius Malfoy had his diary from school."
"That only leaves his snake Nagini, which I believed to be a special case as his familiar. What would you say all of these have in common?"
Harry thought about the various items and places they were hidden. "They meant something special to him in some way."
"Very good, that was my conclusion as well. His familiar, his personal diary that he left with one of his most loyal followers, his grandfather's ring in the house where he resided, his mother's locket in a cave associated with childhood, an unknown object here at Hogwarts which he considered his home much as you have, and a founder's relic at a location unknown."
"Wouldn't it have made more sense if the founder's relic - Hufflepuff's cup - was here instead of that tiara?"
"Yes, it would seem logical - unless -" Dumbledore paused, thoughtful, and went to one of his bookshelves, removing a volume that Harry had seen before -Â Hogwarts, a History. He thumbed through the pages and held it open to a picture of a statue of an imposing woman wearing a tiara.
"That, on her head - it looks like the tiara we found in the Room of Requirement," Harry said, astonished. "Who is that?"
"An explanation of why Tom left it here," said Dumbledore. "This is the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw that graces their house common room. If it is indeed what we now suspect - her lost diadem - then it is yet another founder's relic, not to mention a marvelous discovery."
"Which means he had one from everyone but Gryffindor?"
"Yes, the only known relic of his resides here, where it has been ever since you retrieved it from the sorting hat in your second year," Dumbeldore replied, indicating the glass case on the wall behind him, a place of honor for the ruby-encrusted Sword of Gryffindor that Harry had used to kill Slytherin's basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
"So, not likely we would find that cup hiding here?"
"No, I imagine that he would want to hide each one in a different location. As for what places may be meaningful, we can speculate, but I suggest that I first show you the other memories I've collected at our next meeting."
"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Now, you haven't answered my question yet. Am I a horcrux or not?"
Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes full of emotion. "Harry, from the night that Lord Voldemort attacked your family in Godric's Hollow I have been trying to determine exactly what happened and how you and he both survived the encounter, in particular the state of your survival. You are known throughout the magical world as an anomaly, the only human to survive a fully realized Avada Kedavra curse - and with no visible effects but a scar.
"Voldemort, on the other hand, did not fare nearly so well, and it wasn't until you delivered Tom's old school diary that I could even begin to unravel the twists of dark magic he had wrapped around himself. Creating a horcrux seemed a logical explanation, yet he treated it with surprising recklessness for something so personally important, and still he survived the diary's destruction. Therefore, he must have created more than a single instance, and you have provided an answer that I had vainly sought elsewhere.
"I believe it's safe to say Voldemort certainly did not intend for you to be a horcrux. Firstly, storing a part of one's soul in another living being has significant risks -"
"Such as when Nagini died - that horcrux was gone?"
"Exactly, but we know there can be advantages as well. In Nagini, he had a veritable extension of himself that he could direct at will. You, on the other hand, are most resistant to his command, and he has twice discovered that you have the power to cause him great distress, despite housing a portion of his soul."
"But that sounds like -"
"Harry, it takes a rather complex and heinous ritual procedure to prepare both the subject and the vessel for the creation of a true horcrux. I believe he may have begun the ritual, intending your murder to be a part of his final attempt. When the killing curse backfired upon himself, it loosed the soul fragment which sought the only living creature in the vicinity - you."
Dumbledore paused, shaking his head. Harry felt as if he was staring at him through a long dark tunnel.
"Ever since I came to this conclusion, I have been torn on how to present this information to you. I told you back in June that I would tell you everything, but this… Even as I told you about your connection to Voldemort I was still unsure of the complete picture. It would have been cruel of me to add this to the burden you had just acquired - "
"But it's okay now?" interjected Harry, frustrated.
"No, and therein lay the difficulty. For it does seem that your scar houses a fragment of Voldemort's soul, even if you are not a true horcrux. However," Dumbledore added at the flash of panic across Harry's face, "all is not lost. Tom, in his folly, took your blood as part of the ritual that created a new body for himself. I am not sure why, but he must believe he has negated or extended your mother's protection to himself. Yet he understands little of this type of magic - of sacrificial love and how it would affect each of you, and that this is in fact beneficial to you."
"How do you mean?"
"Your blood - and therefore the protection magic from your mother - resides inside Voldemort and tethers you to life while he lives. Therefore, I believe you would not die if he were to try to kill you again, rather, he would eliminate his soul fragment that resides inside you."
"And just how sure of that are you, Headmaster?" Harry asked with heavy skepticism.
"I admit that it is but an educated guess on my part, but I am usually good at this sort of thing."
"I bet you're also good at rolling dice in Monte Carlo."
Dumbledore's mustache twitched. "I have amused myself there at times when conference meetings became overly tedious," he stated, "but since magic is strictly forbidden in officially sanctioned gambling halls, the odds of obtaining a particular number are calculable and quite low. I am convinced your chances are considerably more favorable."
Harry stared at him stonily.
"Harry, if I could do anything to take this burden from your shoulders, I would. I even considered withholding this from you until the last minute - in a vain hope that you could enjoy a pleasant time during your years at Hogwarts, not least since I bore responsibility for the suffering of your early life."
A smoldering fire burned behind Harry's eyes. "It's nice to know you care, sir, but isn't this too little, too late?" He shut his eyes tightly, trying to force back the growing rage. He took several halting breaths.
"I took your advice," Harry continued, "when you dropped me off at the Burrow. I talked to Ginny - about the Chamber, about a lot of things - we got together and… and I finally felt that I might be able to live some kind of a normal life for a while…"
"Congratulations, Harry. I had not noticed you two had become close."
"We've kept it hidden for her safety. But now I see that it doesn't really matter - Ginny was right all along - I'm just Fate's chew toy."
Dumbledore gave a small huff in response. "I know it must feel that way at times, but there are very few things in life that are inevitable - death is one of those, but change is another. Remember, the prophecy did not state the ultimate victor of your conflict with Lord Voldemort, and he has been unknowingly increasing your chances by using magic he not only misunderstands, but feels is not even worth knowing.
"I wish I could be completely certain of the outcome," Dumbledore continued, "but I am having to make a number of assumptions, particularly regarding the way your mother was able to manage the protections at all. If only I knew what sort of spell she used…"
"There was no spell."
Dumbledore stiffened. "No spell, you say? How do you know?"
"Because the whole confrontation plays out again and again when the dementors come around," Harry said tonelessly.
"Of course, your worst memory," Dumbledore muttered, head bowed. "I would very much like to view that if you are willing."
"Oh, yeah," Harry said, "Mum said you needed to look at that. She thinks you might be able to find something important she and Dad missed."
"All the more reason to follow her request. Now, all you need to do is focus on that memory, from the earliest moment you can, for as long as you can."
Dumbledore held the tip of his wand to Harry's temple and slowly drew out a gossamer strand, then carefully released it into a glass vial. They both stared at the misty substance with the slight greenish glow for several moments.
"I understand if you do not wish to relive this again, Harry."
"Yeah, thanks." He held his head in his hands and visibly deflated.
"'You can never go home anymore.'"
"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore, "what was that?"
Harry stood. "Nothing, just a song I heard back in the summer. It reminded me how different everything is now, and memories won't bring back what's gone."
He bowed his head, defeat rolling off his shoulders, as he turned and silently left the office, while Dumbledore silently ached for the young man more than any student he'd ever known.
o o o
Ginny, Ron, and Hermione awaited Harry's return to the common room. His haggard appearance conveyed that the headmaster did not have positive news for Harry. He tried to share some of what he'd learned, but it was still too raw.
"At least we know what the missing item is, just not where to find it," he finished.
"That's great progress, Harry," said Hermione, "but what about your scar?"
Ginny glared at her for bringing up the sensitive subject in a most insensitive way.
"He's got a bizarre answer for that one," Harry said, shaking his head. "I just have to let Tom hit me with the killing curse and it just might take out the soul piece instead of me. Just another day in the crazy life of Harry Potter…"
He dragged his hands across his head. "Look, I'm knackered, guys. Can we just forget all this for now? There's nothing to be done about it anyway."
He stood and trudged up the boys' stair, unaware of the shell-shocked faces that gaped at his bent back.
"Bloody hell," murmured Ron.
Ginny couldn't help a small sob escape her lips, trying to ignore Hermione's building rant about old men and their convoluted theories on wildly esoteric topics.
o o o
Dumbledore exited the stone basin on his desk and breathed a deep shuddering sigh. He had not enjoyed the pleasure of Lily Evans as a student of his personally, but that did not lessen the trauma of witnessing her last moments of life so intimately. Ironically her greatest tragedy was also her greatest triumph - and she was probably not even aware of her singular accomplishment.
"So simple, and yet so effective," he mused. He closed his eyes in mourning. So many lives lost, so many untold contributions to their world that would never be made.
The heavy casualties inflicted by the abomination that called itself Lord Voldemort could not end too soon. Lily Potter's actions cast effective protections over her son, but only in a limited set of circumstances.
There were too many variables at play, and Dumbledore needed to eliminate as many of them as possible.
o o o
Ginny Weasley climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room and spotted her quarry in his usual seat near the fire, wearing his usual expression of late - eyes vacant, unfocused, his thoughts undoubtedly wandering in some deep warren of despair - and she fought back her own dark thoughts, remembering that she was on a mission. Ron and Hermione looked no better, casting worried glances Harry's way as they huddled together nearby.
She sauntered over and grabbed Harry's shoulder, squeezing it hard enough to get his attention.
"Hey guys," she said, "I'm going to grab some stuff from my room before I head to the library for some charms research. I'll see you lot at dinner, yeah?" During her speech, she patted Harry's shoulder four times before squeezing it again.
He looked up and watched her climb the girl's dorm steps.
"I think I'll take a kip myself," he said. "Meet you here in a while?"
They agreed.
Harry climbed the boys' stair, quickly ducked into his room to seal his bed curtains, threw on his invisibility cloak, and slipped back down to wait.
A couple of minutes later, Ginny crossed the common room and left through the portrait hole, holding it open long enough to hear a whispered "I'm through," from Harry.
They walked in silence all the way to their special room. Upon arrival, Ginny stared carefully at her boyfriend, noticing his bloodshot eyes and the bow of his back. She reached out and massaged his shoulders to sighs of pleasure as Harry's knotted muscles began to release.
"The most interesting thing just happened," she said. "I was called from McGonagall's class to the headmaster's office."
Harry's eyes met hers, questioning.
"He seems to think you're depressed, and that I am the best option to snap you out of it."
She pushed him back onto the settee and plopped into her usual spot in his lap.
"I personally agree with him - on both counts - but it made me curious. Just what did you tell him about us?"
Harry winced. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you - I mentioned we got together over the summer but we were keeping it hidden for your safety."
Ginny gave him a peck on the lips to show that she wasn't mad at him. "Thanks for letting me know - I don't mind, really, 'cause if we can't trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?"
Harry nodded, but he was looking across the room.
"Harry, did your talks with him really change anything?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You are going to fight Voldemort again, right?"
"Erm, right…"
"The outcome is still undecided, right?"
"Yeah…"
"Then why are you acting like you've already lost?"
"But I haven't -"
"Harry, when I look at you, do you know what I see?"
He shook his head.
"I see someone who has lost all hope, someone who may as well be defeated because in his mind he's already been beaten."
Harry's head only dropped further. Ginny was going to have to move the discussion up a notch.
She grabbed his hand from her hip and brought it to her breast, pressing his palm against her so that he could feel her curving flesh even through her top and bra.
She almost laughed at the comical way his eyes popped, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.
"One day," she said huskily, "you will get to play with these, kiss them and caress them to your heart's content, and I will enjoy every minute of it. Wouldn't you like that?"
He nodded slowly, unsure of what exactly was happening.
"And I want to marry you, make love to you, and have babies with you. We can start a family together - doesn't that sound nice?"
He nodded again, more fervently.
"But for any of that to happen, you need to be here, with me, in a future without Voldemort. I want you to picture that future, and throw out the one that's been floating in your imagination, 'cause that one is not happening, Harry. You will survive, because you want to survive, because I need you to survive."
By the end, Ginny was almost growling at him, tearful to the point of bawling. Harry had never seen her emotions this close to the edge and knew that if he wanted the picture she painted to become reality, he must change his frame of mind, trust in Dumbledore, and most of all, trust in this amazing girl who wanted nothing more than his heart's true desire. He needed hope, and he had found it with her.
He pulled her close to him, pressed his lips to the cool bare skin of her neck, and whispered his thanks for her faith in him.
"I love you, Gin."
o