Chapter Text
Narcissa had managed to secure the diary and hidden it under her cloak. She had to get it to Melania and Benjy without raising suspicion. She slipped quietly out of the manor, her mind racing with the importance of her mission.
As she approached the agreed-upon meeting point, she saw Melania and Benjy waiting in the shadows. She hurried over, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I have it,” she whispered, pulling the diary from beneath her cloak and handing it to Melania. “This is the diary Lucius was safeguarding for the Dark Lord.”
Melania took the diary with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Narcissa. This will bring us one step closer to defeating Voldemort.”
Benjy added, “We need to get this to Charlus and Ammon as soon as possible.”
—
Melania and Benjy, with the diary safely in their possession, quickly made their way back to the Potter Estate. Upon their arrival, they found Charlus, Sirius, and Arcturus discussing their next move with Ammon. The atmosphere was tense but filled with determination.
“We have the diary,” Melania announced, holding it up for all to see.
Charlus’s eyes widened. “Excellent work, Melania. This is a significant breakthrough.”
Ammon stepped forward, taking the diary from Melania. “I’ll need some time to examine it and determine the best way to destroy the Horcrux within,” he said, his voice steady. “These artifacts are bound with powerful dark magic. We must be cautious.”
Sirius looked around at the assembled group, his eyes scanning each face with intensity. “While Ammon works on the diary, we should start gathering information on other potential Horcruxes,” he suggested. “If my brother, Regulus, knew something, there might be more clues at Grimmauld Place.”
Charlus nodded in agreement. “Agreed. We’ll need to keep our efforts coordinated and move quickly. Every day we delay gives Voldemort more time to regain his strength.”
—
Charlus, Sirius, and Arcturus gathered around a large wooden table, spread with old maps, parchments, and notes detailing their findings so far. Ammon stood at the side, examining the diary with meticulous care.
Sirius suggested forming teams to divide the tasks efficiently. “While we search Grimmauld Place, others should gather intelligence on any known Death Eater movements or activities. We need to stay ahead of them.”
Charlus agreed. “We’ll need to be discreet. Voldemort’s followers are everywhere, and any sign of us hunting his Horcruxes could bring trouble.”
—
Charlus, Sirius, and Arcturus prepared to head to Grimmauld Place. Before leaving, Charlus addressed the group. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s essential for our victory. Keep your wands ready and your eyes open. We’ll find the Horcruxes and destroy them.”
Ammon looked up from his work on the diary. “Be careful. The magic protecting these items is ancient and dangerous. Trust no one outside this circle.”
Sirius glanced at the diary in Ammon’s hands. “And once you destroy that thing, let us know. We need every advantage we can get.”
—
Charlus, Sirius, and Arcturus arrived at Grimmauld Place under the cover of darkness. The old Black family home loomed before them, its facade as foreboding as ever. They entered cautiously, mindful of the various traps and enchantments that might still be active.
As they stepped inside, the familiar sight of the dark and dusty hallway greeted them. Sirius led the way, his wand illuminating the path. “We’ll start with Regulus’s room,” he said, his voice echoing softly.
They moved through the house methodically, searching for any hidden compartments or signs that Regulus might have left behind. The search was slow and meticulous, each discovery bringing them one step closer to uncovering the secrets buried within the walls of Grimmauld Place.
—
Back at the Potter Estate, Ammon continued his work on the diary, aware that each passing moment brought them closer to a crucial breakthrough. The stakes were higher than ever, but with each Horcrux they found and destroyed, they weakened Voldemort’s hold on the wizarding world.
Charlus, Sirius, and Arcturus were determined to find the remaining Horcruxes, driven by their commitment to protect their loved ones and ensure a future free from the shadow of the Dark Lord. As they pressed on with their search, they knew that every step brought them closer to the ultimate goal: the defeat of Voldemort and the restoration of peace.
—
Despite their collective efforts, Charlus, Sirius and Arcturus failed to find anything at Grimmauld Place that could lead them to any further Horcruxes.
Charlus' voice carried a sense of urgency as he turned to Arcturus, the gravity of their mission weighing heavily on his shoulders. "Arcturus, I need you to head to Gringotts immediately. As the head of House Black, you may have the authority to retrieve the Cup from Bellatrix's vault."
Arcturus nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting the seriousness of the task at hand. "Understood," he replied, his voice firm and resolute. "I'll make the necessary arrangements right away."
With a determined stride, Arcturus left Grimmauld Place and made his way to Gringotts, his mind focused on the crucial role he had to play in retrieving the Horcrux from Bellatrix's vault. As the head of the ancient and noble House Black, he knew that it was his duty to do whatever was necessary to protect his family and the wizarding world from the darkness that Voldemort had unleashed.
—
Arriving at the imposing marble facade of Gringotts, Arcturus entered the bank with purpose, his mind set on the task ahead. Making his way through the grand halls of the bank, he approached the goblin at the information desk.
"I need access to the vault belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange," Arcturus stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
The goblin behind the desk regarded him with a steely gaze, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Verification," he demanded, his tone curt and businesslike.
Arcturus nodded, understanding the need for security measures. He reached into the inner pocket of his robe and produced a small, ornate locket bearing the insignia of House Black. Holding it up for the goblin to see, he spoke with unwavering resolve. "As the head of House Black, I am here to retrieve an item of utmost importance. It is imperative that I gain access to the vault immediately."
The goblin's eyes flickered with recognition as he inspected the locket, his expression softening imperceptibly. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. Follow me," he said, gesturing for Arcturus to follow him.
With a sense of purpose, Arcturus followed the goblin through the winding corridors of Gringotts, his mind focused on the task at hand. They soon arrived at the entrance to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault, a formidable door adorned with intricate runes and protective enchantments.
"Here is the vault," the goblin announced, his voice reverberating in the dimly lit chamber. "I will need to verify your identity once more before granting access."
Arcturus nodded, understanding the necessity of the goblin's thoroughness. He held out his wand, allowing the goblin to perform the necessary magical scans to confirm his identity. After a few moments, the goblin nodded in satisfaction.
"Your identity has been confirmed. You may proceed," the goblin said, stepping aside to allow Arcturus entry.
With a steady hand, Arcturus inserted the key into the lock and turned it, the heavy door swinging open with a low rumble. Stepping into the vault, he cast his gaze around the dimly lit chamber, his eyes falling upon the gleaming cup that lay within.
Without hesitation, he reached out and took hold of the Horcrux, a shiver running down his spine as he felt its dark energy pulsing beneath his fingertips. With the Cup in his possession, Arcturus wasted no time in securing it safely. Exiting the vault, he made his way back to the surface, his heart filled with a sense of grim determination. The next phase of their mission was underway, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in their battle against the darkness.
—
As Harry lay on the bed, still feeling the lingering effects of the ritual, his grandmother Dorea hovered over him, a look of concern etched on her face. She insisted on feeding him herself, determined to ensure that he regained his strength.
"Come on, Harry dear, you need to eat," she coaxed gently, holding a spoonful of warm soup to his lips.
Harry smiled weakly and obediently opened his mouth, allowing Dorea to carefully feed him. The soup was soothing, its warmth spreading through his body and easing the tension in his muscles.
Dorea watched him intently, her heart filled with a grandmother's love and worry. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice soft and comforting.
Harry nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Better, Grandma. Thanks for taking care of me."
Dorea smiled warmly, her eyes shining with affection. "It's my pleasure, dear. I just want you to get back to your old self as soon as possible."
With each spoonful, Harry felt a little stronger, the fatigue and discomfort gradually fading away. And as he looked into his grandmother's eyes, he knew that he was surrounded by love and warmth, the most powerful magic of all.
—
Kreth, the Potter House-Elf, appeared in the doorway, his large eyes wide with urgency. "Madam Dorea, Madam Augusta Longbottom and Master Neville Longbottom have arrived," he announced, his voice quivering with excitement.
Dorea's face lit up with a smile at the news. "Thank you, Kreth. Please show them in," she replied warmly.
In a matter of moments, Augusta and Neville Longbottom entered the room, greeted by the welcoming atmosphere of the Potter Estate. Dorea rose from her seat to welcome them, her eyes bright with pleasure at their visit.
"Augusta, Neville, it's wonderful to see you," Dorea exclaimed, embracing them both warmly. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
Augusta returned the smile, her expression softening as she looked at Harry. "Thank you, Dorea. Tea would be lovely," she replied, taking a seat beside her grandson.
As Kreth bustled off to prepare the tea, Dorea turned her attention to Neville. "And how are you, Neville? It's been a while since we last saw you," she said kindly, her voice filled with warmth and genuine interest.
Neville shifted slightly in his seat, his cheeks flushing with shyness. "I-I'm fine, thank you, Grandma Dorea," he replied softly, his gaze flickering nervously around the room.
Dorea smiled understandingly at Neville's shyness, then leaned forward attentively. "I heard you've been doing well in your studies at home. Your grandmother mentioned you've been practicing your potion-making," she said encouragingly.
Neville nodded, his eyes brightening with a hint of pride. "Y-yes, I've been trying my best," he admitted, a small smile gracing his lips. "Um, I also heard that Harry was s-sick. I hope he's feeling better now."
Dorea's smile softened as she reassured Neville. "Yes, Harry had a little fever, but he's much better now," she explained, her voice filled with warmth and concern for her grandson. "He'd be delighted to see you, Neville. I'm sure it would brighten his day.”
Neville's face lit up with a shy smile. "I'd like that," he replied softly.
Dorea patted his hand affectionately. "Then it's settled. After tea, I'll take you to see Harry," she said, her tone gentle and reassuring.
As Neville nodded in agreement, Dorea couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the young boy. She knew that Harry and Neville's budding friendship would be a source of strength and support for both of them in the challenging times ahead.
—
After tea, Dorea led Neville to Harry's room. Knocking gently on the door, she called out, "Harry, dear, Neville's here to see you."
Harry, who was propped up on the bed with a book in hand, looked up and smiled when he saw Neville enter. "Hi, Neville," he greeted warmly.
Neville shuffled into the room, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.
Harry shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm okay. Just a bit tired," he replied honestly.
Dorea stepped aside to give the boys some privacy, a fond smile on her face as she watched them interact. It warmed her heart to see Harry and Neville bonding, their friendship blossoming in the safety and warmth of the Potter Estate.
—
As Arcturus arrived at Blackmoor, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of gravity and purpose. The gathered group of wizards and witches awaited him with solemn anticipation, fully aware of the crucial task that lay ahead. With purposeful steps, Arcturus approached, the Cup held firmly in his grasp. The weight of the artifact seemed to match the gravity of the moment.
In tandem, Ammon arrived with the Diary, his demeanor calm yet resolute. The group watched in silence as the two artifacts, each containing a fragment of Voldemort's twisted soul, were placed side by side on the table, their surfaces gleaming under the flickering candlelight. The air seemed to hum with anticipation as the group gathered around, ready to witness the pivotal ritual that would destroy these dark relics forever.
Ammon's voice resonated through the room as he began the incantation, each word infused with ancient and potent magic. The assembled wizards and witches listened intently, their eyes fixed on the artifacts before them. With each verse, the magical energy in the room intensified, crackling with power and purpose.
As the incantation reached its climax, the Cup and the Diary began to react, vibrating with a violent energy. A blinding light erupted from the artifacts, filling the room with a brilliant radiance. Time seemed to stand still as the forces of light and darkness clashed in a breathtaking display of magic.
Then, with a final burst of energy, the Horcruxes disintegrated before their eyes, their dark magic shattered by the overwhelming forces of good. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room as the group realized that they had succeeded in their mission. The sense of victory was palpable, mingled with profound gratitude for the courage and determination that had brought them to this moment.
Ammon, visibly exhausted but triumphant, stepped back from the table, his face marked with the weight of the task he had just accomplished. "It is done," he declared, his voice echoing in the now-quiet room. "The Horcruxes are destroyed."
Charlus, Sirius, Melania, Benjy, and Moody exchanged looks of profound relief and gratitude. They had faced the darkness head-on and emerged victorious, united in their determination to rid the world of Voldemort's evil once and for all.
—-
In the serene ambiance of the sitting room at Blackmoor, Ammon addressed the gathered group, his voice carrying the weight of his words. "With the destruction of the Cup and the Diary, only one more Horcrux remains," he declared, his tone grave and resolute. "The fifth piece of the soul resides within that Horcrux, with the sixth and final piece residing within Voldemort himself."
As Ammon's words echoed in the tranquil atmosphere of the sitting room at Blackmoor, the group exchanged contemplative glances, each member lost in thought about the identity of the final Horcrux.
Charlus spoke up first, his voice measured but determined. "We must consider all the possibilities. Voldemort would have chosen an object of great significance to him, something deeply personal and steeped in dark magic."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, his eyes alight with the weight of their discussion. "Voldemort's obsession with Hogwarts and its founders is well-documented. It's entirely possible that the final Horcrux could be connected to Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw."
Charlus leaned forward, his expression contemplative. "Given that the Cup belonged to Helga Hufflepuff and the Locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin, it stands to reason that Voldemort would have sought out relics from the other founders as well. We should focus our search on objects associated with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."
Benjy chimed in, "We know that Gryffindor's sword is a powerful magical artifact. It's possible that Voldemort could have sought to make it into a Horcrux."
Moody nodded in agreement. "And Ravenclaw's lost diadem could also be a likely candidate. It's been missing for centuries, but if anyone could find it, it would be Voldemort.”
Charlus nodded thoughtfully. "The sword of Gryffindor may not be a viable option," he mused. "Its enchantment ensures it only reveals itself to those who embody the qualities Gryffindor valued. Voldemort, being the antithesis of these virtues, would have difficulty obtaining it."
Moody agreed. "You're right. That leaves us with Ravenclaw's diadem as the most probable candidate.”
Melania interjected, her brow furrowed in thought. "But the diadem has been lost for centuries. It's unlikely that Voldemort would have been able to locate it."
Charlus nodded in agreement. "Indeed, the diadem's whereabouts have remained a mystery for generations. However, if Voldemort managed to find and turn it into a Horcrux, it might be hidden in a place of great significance to him.”
Arcturus nodded thoughtfully. "Hogwarts would be the most logical place. It was there that Tom Riddle first discovered his magical abilities, and it's where he developed his ambitions for power."
Charlus's eyes brightened with realization. "Of course! Hogwarts is where he felt most powerful, most in control. It makes perfect sense that he would choose to hide the diadem there."
Sirius added, "It's a risk, but it's one we have to take. If the diadem is indeed at Hogwarts, we need to find it before anyone else does.”
—
As they discussed their plans, Dumbledore conducted his own investigation into the known locations of Voldemort's Horcruxes. His search led him to discover that each location had been cleared out, leaving only the final location within Hogwarts remaining.
His heart sank as he realized the implications of this revelation. Time was running out, and the fate of the wizarding world hung in the balance. He knew that he needed to act swiftly to prevent the Legion from obtaining the last Horcrux.
With a determined stride, Dumbledore made his way from his office to the Room of Requirement. His mind was focused on the task at hand, to secure the final Horcrux.
With each step, Dumbledore's mind churned with a mix of determination and apprehension. The fate of the wizarding world rested heavily on his shoulders, and he knew he couldn't afford to falter.
Upon reaching the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement, he paused for a brief moment, gathering his resolve. With a firm nod, he focused his thoughts on the room where all things are hidden.
As if responding to his unspoken request, the door to the Room of Requirement materialized before him. Without hesitation, Dumbledore stepped inside, the air thick with anticipation.
Inside the room, shadows danced across the walls, casting an otherworldly glow upon the hidden alcove where the Horcrux lay concealed. Dumbledore's gaze locked onto the spot, his mind honed in on the task ahead.
Approaching the alcove, he reached out with steady hands, his fingers curling around the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he held the final Horcrux, a tangible symbol of Voldemort's darkest ambitions.
With a sense of solemn purpose, Dumbledore carefully removed the Horcrux from its hiding place. The weight of the object felt heavy in his hands, a reminder of the immense responsibility he bore.
As he turned to leave the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore knew that the most critical phase of his plans was about to begin.
—
As Dumbledore made his way back to his office, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor. He stopped, sensing a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, a sleek figure stepped out of the shadows, catching him by surprise. It was Minerva McGonagall, transformed into her animagus form—a graceful tabby cat.
Dumbledore's eyes softened with recognition and appreciation as he observed the feline, aware that Minerva often kept a watchful eye over him in her animagus form. He greeted her warmly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Minerva," he said, acknowledging her presence. "Your vigilance is both comforting and commendable."
Minerva, in her feline form, regarded Dumbledore with a mixture of concern and determination. She knew the gravity of the situation and was ready to assist in any way she could.
Transforming back into her human form, Minerva's expression was grave yet resolute. "Headmaster, I've been following your movements," she began, her voice steady but tinged with concern.
Dumbledore regarded her with a gentle curiosity. "And may I ask why, Minerva?"
Minerva met his gaze with unwavering determination. "The days of me not questioning your decisions ended the day I found out about young Harry's abuse at the hands of the Dursleys."
Dumbledore's eyes softened with understanding. "I see," he murmured, a shadow of regret passing over his features.
Minerva's demeanor remained firm as she raised her wand, pointing it directly at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I must ask you to hand over whatever it is that you're carrying," she stated firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Dumbledore regarded her with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "Minerva, I cannot do that," he said, his tone gentle yet unwavering. "I must fulfill my duty to protect the wizarding world, even if it means facing the consequences of my actions."
Minerva's expression hardened, determination etched in every line of her face. "I understand, Headmaster," she replied, her voice steady. "But I cannot stand by and watch as you make choices that endanger us all."
Tension crackled in the air as the two wizards faced each other, each firm in their convictions.
Sparks flew as Minerva raised her wand, her eyes flashing with determination. Dumbledore, lacking the power of the Elder Wand, found himself struggling to match her skill and intensity.
Minerva's spells were swift and precise, each one aimed with deadly accuracy. Dumbledore, relying on his own formidable magical abilities, countered her attacks with all the skill and cunning he could muster.
The room crackled with magic as spells collided and echoed off the stone walls. Furniture was overturned, and the air filled with the smell of burning wood and ozone.
Despite his best efforts, Dumbledore found himself on the defensive, each spell from Minerva pushing him further back. He realized that without the power of the Elder Wand, he was at a disadvantage.
But even as the duel raged on, Dumbledore's mind raced, searching for a way to end the conflict without causing harm to either of them. He knew that Minerva was acting out of a deep sense of duty and loyalty, just as he was.
With a flick of his wand, he conjured a shield to deflect Minerva's next spell, buying himself a moment to think. He knew that he had to find a way to end this duel before it escalated further.
Minerva's resolve remained unyielding as she continued to press the attack. Her determination to redeem herself fueled her every spell.
Dumbledore, recognizing the depth of Minerva's determination, knew that he had to find a way to end the duel peacefully. He couldn't bear to see Minerva, his longtime friend and colleague, harmed in any way.
"Minerva, please," Dumbledore pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency. "This isn't the way."
Minerva's determination drove her forward, her spells gaining strength and precision with each passing moment. She pushed Dumbledore back, her resolve unshaken by his attempts to reason with her.
Dumbledore, caught off guard by Minerva's relentless onslaught, found himself on the defensive. Without the full power of the Elder Wand at his disposal, he struggled to match Minerva's ferocity and skill.
As the duel raged on, Minerva's spells grew stronger, her determination to redeem herself driving her forward. She fought with a fierce intensity, fueled by her desire to protect Harry and make amends for her perceived failures.
Despite Dumbledore's best efforts to end the conflict peacefully, Minerva's unyielding resolve pushed her to victory. With a final flurry of spells, she disarmed and stunned Dumbledore, her wand held steady as she stood before him, victorious but conflicted.
With Dumbledore stunned and unable to stop her, Minerva swiftly cast the summoning charm, "Accio," pulling the object from his grasp. With the object in her possession, she wasted no time, hurrying away to her office to use the Floo Network to get to Blackmoor.
In her office, Minerva quickly ignited the green flames of the Floo Network, uttering the destination clearly: "Blackmoor!"
As the flames engulfed her, she vanished from her office, leaving behind the weight of her conflicted feelings and the urgency of her mission.
