Metamorphome

Chapter Nineteen: A Beginning to the End of All Things

"How are the nightmares, Hermione?" Morrigan asked one morning in the third week of August, looking up from breakfast preparations. She was currently making tapioca pudding, which she insisted made a lovely breakfast.

"Awful," Hermione admitted. "I just can't get over..." She shuddered violently.

Morrigan tsked. "I'm going to brew stronger Sleeping Draughts. Hopefully your dreams will get better. What on earth is giving you such terrible night terrors?"

"You don't want to know," Hermione said, shuddering again.

"All right," Morrigan sighed unconvincingly. "I'm here to talk when you're ready, though, okay?"

"All right," Hermione agreed.

Someone knocked on the door. "Can you get that, Hermione?" Morrigan asked, licking a messy finger. "I'm a little tied up."

Hermione nodded silently and went to the door. "Draco!" she exclaimed. Morrigan looked up sharply, watching Hermione throw herself on Draco, embracing him tightly and long. "I've missed you!"

Morrigan turned to the sink and washed her hands off. She wasn't going to be present for this.

Draco stood in the entrance to the kitchen, watching her silently, only half listening to Hermione.

"Hi--" he started, but Morrigan brushed past him coldly, slamming the door behind her.

Hermione stopped midsentence to look between the closed door and Draco in surprise. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"We're not currently speaking," Draco informed her shortly.

"Oh," Hermione said confusedly. "Did something happen?"

"Sort of," Draco said.

* * *

Morrigan threw herself on her bed. She shouldn't listen to what he was saying to Hermione--if they were even talking at all. She didn't really want to confirm what she already knew.

Breathe, she ordered herself. In, out, in, out. She pulled a pillow over her head, humming a song to herself and trying hard not to imagine the conversation that was likely going on in the next room.

* * *

"Draco, I don't think I can decide yet," Hermione said shyly at the kitchen table. They were both sitting, looking down at their hands in their laps.

"That's all right, I've made the decision for you," Draco said brusquely. "Hermione, we can't pretend any relationship between you and me could work. None of your friends like me, and they'll hate me if we start something, most especially your Weasley friends. The relationship would be hard on me, it would be hard on you, your friends, Morrigan."

"What does Morrigan think about this?" Hermione asked sharply. "She knows?"

"Yes, she knows," Draco said impatiently. "And she's not altogether happy about it, either."

"Is that what happened?" Hermione interrupted. "She's mad because we're leaving her out?"

"In a manner of speaking," Draco said carefully. "That's not important. Think about it: how long would this passing fancy last? You'd forsake all your friends and perhaps your family for something that isn't even going to be permanent."

"How do you know?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm not right for you. I'm too...me. Opposites attract, but those that can find similar grounds will be together forever."

"We have plenty of similar grounds!" Hermione protested.

"And if I got down on one knee right now you'd say yes to a proposal of marriage?" Draco snapped.

Hermione sighed. "You're right, but now, I feel as if I have more in common with you than Ronald."

"It may seem that way, Hermione, but someday you'll be grateful that we made this decision. And...if it helps, you're really not my type anyway."

"What is your type?" Hermione demanded crossly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's not relevant now." Draco leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "Attraction or not, you're one of few friends I have, Hermione."

"I know," she sighed. "I'll miss the idea of being your girlfriend, though."

Draco grinned. "Good; I don't want you to get over me too fast. And now," he said, standing, "I need to get to Headquarters. Potter and I need to discuss something. Oh, shit, I almost forgot--meeting tonight at six."

"Thanks, Draco. See you tonight." She waved good-bye to Draco before he Apparated, and then knocked on Morrigan's door.

Morrigan answered, her hair askew. "My, what happened to you?" Hermione asked, appraising Morrigan's messy hair.

"Er, don't ask. Is he gone?" Morrigan asked, glancing about.

"Yeah. What happened with you two, anyway?"

"I don't really know if you want to hear about it, Hermione."

"I want to hear about it if you want to tell me," Hermione insisted half-heartedly. If her suspicions were correct, she probably didn't want to hear about it.

"It's probably not a good idea to talk about it now."

"Agreed," Hermione sighed. "There's a meeting tonight at Headquarters. It must be important--it's last-minute, and Draco had to meet Harry there ahead of time."

"Hm," Morrigan grunted. "Tapioca?"

* * *

"Ahem, would everyone please quiet down? We've got a lot to cover and I'd like to be out of here before midnight."

"Midnight!" Ginny exclaimed. "Harry, surely it can't take that long." Harry shot her a look and she shut up promptly. Morrigan rolled her eyes audaciously, to which Ginny made a very rude hand gesture.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"Please!" Harry cried. "Just listen to me; I'll try to get this done as quickly as possible."

The entire table turned expectant eyes to Harry.

He took a deep breath and began. "I know you're all very curious about what prompted me to lead Hermione and Ron away from England for so long, and I will tell you, but I would like you all to sign this contract before I tell you anything. You'll suffer some pretty nasty repercussions if you discuss this with anyone that isn't on the list, so I'd advise you against discussing it with anyone other than those not in the room."

He sent the list around with a quill and ink, which everyone signed in turn. "Are you sure you want her to sign it?" Ginny asked loudly as Ron passed the quill to Morrigan.

"She already knows about most of it," Harry said blandly, his eyes unblinking. "It wouldn't matter whether she knew or not now, anyway."

Ginny grunted, unconvinced.

The list finally came back to Harry, who read it, satisfied. "All right, then. I guess this can go underway. First, I'll have you know that Dumbledore and I have already gone over most of these details and I have seen proof with my own eyes of this. Therefore, no matter what you say, nothing can change the facts. Don't attempt to deny any of this, please. It'll only make my job more difficult."

The Order members exchanged confused looks. What did he mean?

"Dumbledore had reason to believe, correctly, that Voldemort created a Horcrux."

"NO!" Moody cried out in shock, his magic eye swiveling madly. "Impossible!"

"Possible," Harry said grimly. "Would you like to explain to the rest of them what a Horcrux is?"

Moody tried to recollect himself. "In order to make oneself immortal, you must first split your soul and place it in some sort of object, a talisman of sorts. Of course, the only way to split your soul is to commit murder. A soul must remain naturally whole, or it's tainted. Splitting your soul is the foulest act against nature. It will bring you immortality, but a cursed existence."

Harry nodded grimly. "Unfortunately, Dumbledore realized that he had created not one, but six Horcruxes--creating a powerful seven-soul split." A few audible gasps filled the room. "You understand, then, our problem. Tracking down six Horcruxes seems nearly impossible, as we would have to first know what we were looking for, which could be any number of things. Then how do we know if we destroyed the Horcrux? Voldemort doesn't seem to know when a part of his soul was destroyed, and we wouldn't want him to know anyway. He could head us off, hide the Horcruxes again before we found them. This didn't happen, fortunately. But after we destroy the Horcruxes, we still have to destroy Voldemort himself, and immortal or not, he's still dangerous and extremely capable. We had to ignore that and first concentrate on the Horcruxes, about which we were extremely lucky.

"Firstly, Dumbledore found the ring belonging to Marvolo Gaunt hidden in the ruins of the house belonging to the last of Slytherin's heirs--Voldemort's family. He destroyed the Horcrux secreted inside, and we were down to five more Horcruxes. In my second year, you'll remember that Ginny came into possession of a certain diary belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle--Voldemort's school diary.

"It was a strong bit of magic that allowed Voldemort to possess Ginny. In fact, it allowed the soul of the Horcrux to switch objects--from a diary to Ginny. It's ill-advised to be so careless with your Horcrux. First to just put it in the hands of Lucius Malfoy and have it planted in Hogwarts shows recklessness about part of your soul. Because of this, Dumbledore was convinced that Voldemort had more than one Horcrux. In addition, making a living creature a Horcrux is foolish when that creature can make its own decisions.

"I destroyed the diary, oblivious to the impact I was making in the number of Horcruxes. Then, in my sixth year, Dumbledore finally explained what Voldemort had done and what I must do in order to destroy him. That year, he died, leaving me on my own with four more Horcruxes, a few clues to Voldemort's past, and therefore a couple bare hints as to where I should start looking for Horcruxes.

"We were sure of three objects as Horcruxes: A silver locket belonging to Voldemort's mother, a chalice belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, and Voldemort's snake Nagini."

"You said that he shouldn't use creatures as Horcruxes," Remus interrupted shrewdly.

"Yeah, but Voldemort had already shown carelessness in that area. Remember the diary?" Harry replied. "Anyway, I digress. There was one other object that we didn't know about, but we suspected it was something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor. You see, Voldemort loved the idea of using objects from the four heads and since the only known object of Godric Gryffindor was currently residing in Dumbledore's office, he had to believe that Voldemort was using something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw."

"When Morrigan told me unwittingly where to find the chalice of Helga Hufflepuff, I knew we had to act fast. If we destroyed the chalice, Voldemort would know we were onto him, but we couldn't lose time in destroying it. So, Morrigan, Malfoy, and I went to Parselart and destroyed not only the chalice but Nagini as well."

"What?!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Harry proceeded without faltering. "And that's about the time that we left." He gestured to Ron and Hermione. "No one but the three of us know about that, and I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"Tell us," Fred urged. "This was just getting to the good part."

"George!" Arthur said loudly.

"I'm not George, I'm Fred!" the twin protested.

"Gred, then," Arthur snorted, "This isn't a story concocted purely for your entertainment. People have died because of this--"

"Yeah, yeah, dad, will you let Harry talk?" George said this time, looking up at Harry expectantly.

Harry hesitated. "Just tell us, Potter," Moody said gruffly, settling comfortably in his chair. "It's probably best if we hear about it."

Harry sat down and flicked his wand, and the tables disappeared. "It will be easier to tell this way..."

* * *

I thought it would be best to start from the beginning--and where else to start than Voldemort's beginning? I had seen the Gaunt residence thanks to memories provided by Dumbledore, and I had been in the area during the incident at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. Little Hangleton was where it all started, and I imagined that this would be the best place to start if I needed a quick lead as to where to find the Horcrux.

We searched the ruins, but we found nothing. Likewise, we found nothing in the old Riddle house, long devoid of life. However, we visited the Little Hangleton graveyard, where I had witnessed Voldemort's return only five years before. And there it was: At the very back of the cemetery we found a solitary grave, unmarked and plain. Hermione worked marvelous magic and saw that there actually was an inscription: Regulus Astalder Black. We knew this was pivotal, mostly because of a note that led us to believe that someone else had that Horcrux currently. We dug up the grave, and inside was a skeleton clutching a silver locket with a beautiful inscription of the letter "S." We'd found the next Horcrux.

It was stupid, I guess, to open the locket without consulting the others, but I did it anyway. Luckily, nothing happened. Instead, we looked inside and we were surprised to see a moving picture of Voldemort as a very young man. I didn't really know how to destroy the locket, so I tried the Killing Curse. It did something, but we weren't sure what. A small explosion went off, producing a small mushroom cloud, and then when the smoke cleared, the locket was there on the ground, looking harmless and small. We opened it up, and the picture was gone. That part of the soul had been destroyed.

How were we to find the next Horcrux? All I knew was that it was most likely something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw, but all I knew of her was that she had died somewhere in northern France, thanks to Hogwarts, A History--actually, that was brilliance on Hermione's part. Anyway, what else would I be able to go on? Hermione suggested looking on a wizarding map to find any clues, such as telltale names. We found none.

We started from a village near a very famously haunted castle, currently unoccupied, with a curious amount of superstition surrounding it. The villagers refused to enter it or go anywhere near it, due to the rumors of poltergeists. Although we thought it would be unlikely that we would find anything, we went in to the castle anyway. It was very old, but was strangely well maintained. We thought perhaps someone was living there and didn't like company. No one stopped us, however, from entering, so we walked in through the open gates without difficulty.

Ron didn't like it at all. It was giving him the creeps, he said. We walked through the vicinity, looking for any sort of sign of inhabitance, but all we got was a very severe case of the chills. We were about to leave when we saw it. It was hideously macabre--a half-dead looking creature, sort of like an Inferi. The most terrifying thing was that I recognized it--it looked like Voldemort.

It stepped forward and smiled at me, its hideous teeth covered in blood and rot. "Hello, Guardian. Have you come home, finally to die?" it said, or something like that.

"You are the Horcrux?" I asked it, even though I had a pretty good idea that it was the Horcrux. Something told me that it had only shown itself to me. It knew who I was--it had come out just for me. This was most likely why Dumbledore never found the Horcrux.

"That is one name for me," it hissed. It crouched low, as if ready to spring. However, instead of releasing its body, a strange strand of green substance floated off its body toward myself. I didn't know what it was, but I certainly didn't want it anywhere near me. I blocked the substance.

What followed was a very strange fight. The important thing is that I finally destroyed it, with the help of Ron and Hermione. We had to leave fast, though. We had been gone for a very long time, and Voldemort would be coming very soon for his Horcrux. We exited the main building and were heading toward the gates when they slammed shut very suddenly and we were locked in. We tried everything we knew to open the gates, but they wouldn't budge.

Then I felt the familiar cold feeling of the Dementors and turned around. It was coming straight for me, and its hands were on its hood, prepared to lower the hood and give me the Kiss. I tried the Patronus again and again, but it wasn't working, and I was losing strength when Hermione felt the presence of mind to yell, "Riddikulus!" The creature was finished, and we had to just lay there, gasping for breath and we couldn't move for fear. Ron was still screaming on the ground, clawing at his face, as if something was on it. We calmed him down enough to get him to open his eyes--and he had lost eyesight in one of us eyes. We thought it was temporary, but I don't know.

We had destroyed the Horcruxes, and now it was time to go home. The gates opened quite easily and we left unhindered, then made our way back home, taking our time. Neither Hermione or Ron could summon up the strength to Apparate, so we had to do a lot of walking under the cover of night. When we finally got to Paris, we stayed in a hotel for a few nights, looking for signs that we were being followed. We didn't see anything suspicious, although we saw in a paper that the castle that had been Rowena Ravenclaw's had been razed to the ground. Finally we had the strength to Apparate back, and from there you know the rest of the story.

* * *

Upon conclusion, there was a long silence before Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. "Oh you poor dears!" She stood and went to where Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sitting and crushed them tightly to her bosom.

"Mum!" Ron howled into her chest, his arms flailing. "Let go!"

There was collective nervous laughter from the rest of the group, each person's eyes shifting uneasily between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Each person was unsure of what to say. Morrigan felt strange at the moment and left the room, brushing past Draco as she walked out the door. He turned quickly to watch her leave, and leaned forward to stand, but thought better of it and sat down again promptly.

In the hall, Morrigan traced the artwork of the familiar wallpaper with her fingers, feeling the creases and curled corners. So much had happened in this house. It held her joys, her sorrows, and her memories. It was strange to think that maybe after the war she would never come back here.

For the first time, Morrigan wondered what would happen if they lost. With her newfound morals came hope, and she never really thought that they might lose. But what if they did lose? It was more probable than not, really. What would happen? She would die, that's what would happen. Or not. Maybe she could go into hiding. Simply hiding wasn't enough, though. Perhaps she could start a terrorist organization and--

That's stupid, she thought. What a dumb idea. She shook her head. She was letting her imagination run away with her. We will win, she told herself firmly. We will not accept no for an answer.

The door opened and Hermione stuck a head out. "Morrigan, we're getting ready to start the meeting up again," she said. "You want to come in?"

"Yeah," Morrigan said, casting one last look about the dark hallway, and followed Hermione back inside.

"--are we going to do now?" Lupin was saying.

"We need to lure Voldemort to Hogwarts, somehow," Harry said. "But how? Just owl him saying, 'All right, then, time to finish this.' There is no way he would listen to that. He'd suspect a trap. Worse, he would get there first and try to spring the trap on us."

"This is true," Hermione said, nodding. "Perhaps we can suggest that we have one of his Horcruxes?" she suggested.

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant, Hermione! We could plant information with his spies. Maybe something about Slytherin's locket. He doesn't know where it is, either. Regulus stole it from him and took it with him to the grave."

"I doubt it," Hermione said. "I think You-Know Who buried it with Regulus. Remember that Sirius said You-Know-Who had killed his brother for trying to get away? That's probably what happened, and then You-Know-Who made Regulus the locket's guardian in death." Harry glowered at her. "It doesn't matter," she said quickly.

"With whom do we plant information?" Remus intercepted them.

"We'll send owls to the Ministry, we'll send them everywhere. We'll talk about it at the Ministry, we'll speak about it to every suspected spy...and I'll open my mind at night," Harry said.

"NO," Moody ordered him. "It's enough without you making yourself vulnerable. With one opening, You-Know-Who will take advantage of everything he can. The other ways are enough."

"All right," Harry agreed. "Fred, George, are you going to be able to provide enough of your shield apparel for the upcoming battle?"

"Sure," one of them said, grinning broadly. "And free of charge, too."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. "We'll pay you back afterwards."

"And thank you, Harry," the other twin said, grinning still wider. "We'd appreciate that greatly."

"Cheapskates," Ron muttered under his breath, earning reproving looks from both his mother and brothers.

"Tonks and Kingsley, I'll need you to get Ministry volunteers for the battle. We'll need as many numbers as we can get," Harry added.

"Yessir," Tonks said, saluting him.

"Oh, Harry, we're going to need help with getting all those supplies from the shop. There're a lot of them," Fred said.

"I'll help," Draco said quietly.

"Thanks, Malfoy." George smiled at him cheekily, and checked his watch. "I suppose we can do that now if you don't mind?"

"Yes, that's fine."

The twins and Draco stood and left the room, Apparating with three cracks.

"That's it. I encourage everyone to prepare for the upcoming battle. Dismissed." Harry stood and left the room.

Morrigan watched him leave with a feeling of great apprehension.

* * *

Draco waited patiently in the dark street of Diagon Alley as Fred (or George--Draco couldn't tell which) unlocked the door to their shop. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Fred pointed his wand at the lights and lit them as he walked in the door, lighting the shop up instantly. The twins led the way to the storeroom. Draco followed silently behind, looking about curiously. He had never been in the shop, although he had gone past it many times. He had never felt any interest, but now that he was inside, he found that what the twins had done was rather brilliant. Their jokes and gifts were all very original and ingenious. Even Draco had used one once to get out of class. At school they had spread like wildfire.

Draco passed an open room in which potions bubbled merrily in their cauldrons. He got a whiff of the closest one and found that the scent, despite his expectation, was beautiful to behold. A breeze of apple and cinnamon, a familiar lemon-and-heather perfume scent that reminded him of his mother, and the smell of old manuscripts floated to his nose and left their mark on the inside of his nostrils. "Amorantia," he remarked, and one of the twins shook his head. "No, it's much weaker. It's illegal to distribute Amorantia to the general public. The stuff we use is temporary and harmless."

"I expect Ron would say different," George said, referring to a time in Draco's sixth year when Ron had swallowed love potion intended for Harry. It had led Ron to stray into the path of Draco's murder attempts on Dumbledore. He had learned this after the fact, and at the time, despite his dire situation, had snickered gently at the love potion part of the ordeal.

"Here they are," Fred said, shoving a box aside and finding three enormous boxes labeled "Shield Attire." Draco picked one up and waited for Fred and George to follow suit. All three walked out the door with the lumbering boxes in their hands, completely silent.