Pieces of a Soul

Chapter Seven: A Piece of Immortality

Remus Lupin made a face at the steaming goblet in his hands, his stomach twisting unpleasantly in anticipation of the horrid taste of the Wolfsbane potion. He sighed. For the past three days, it had been difficult to keep down even the simplest of foods, and taking the potion the previous day had been nothing short of torture. The only thing that had kept him from vomiting as he drank the bitter, sludge-like substance was firm willpower and the knowledge that the teenagers sharing Grimmauld Place with him would not be safe unless he was able to drink the goblet in its entirety.

He gulped dryly, still staring into the murky contents of the goblet. Finally, desperately, he resolved to try the method his mother had once used whenever he had needed a dose of the hated Pepper Up potion as a child. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched his nose firmly closed with one hand and brought the goblet to his lips.

No amount of willpower would keep it down today. As soon as the noxious liquid hit his throat, Remus retched violently, the meager remains of the toast and tea he had consumed for breakfast splattering on the floor and the goblet flying out of his hand. He dropped to his knees, heaving, his body feeling more weak and worn than he could ever remember. As his stomach calmed, he dropped his chin to his chest, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of the puddle of sick on the floor and the steaming remains of his potion dripping from the wall opposite him.

"Scourgify," he muttered weakly, pointing his wand at the mess, which immediately vanished. Not for nothing had he lived as a bachelor for all these years; he had long since learned that simple cleaning spells were a necessary part of life unless one was content either to live in squalor or to buy Muggle cleaning products, whose effectiveness was often debatable.

Mopping his face with a ragged handkerchief, Remus got shakily to his feet, grabbing the old iron bedstead for support as he willed his head to stop spinning. He had been sick on other occasions, of course, but the level of his nausea was worrisome. He wondered whether he had eaten something rotten without meaning to or if he just had a case of influenza.

As he steadied himself, he knew that he had to make preparations for his transformation in two days. He could not think of a safer place to go than Headquarters, but neither was he willing to put Ron, Hermione and Harry at risk when they returned from their discussion with Mundungus Fletcher.

For the briefest of moments, Lupin smiled wryly. He really did wish that he was able to go see the spectacle that was sure to be unfolding at this very moment. Harry and the others, quite apart from trying to find the locket, were furious with Dung for deserting Arthur on Privet Drive. Remus was not happy with him either, but after dealing with him for years, he was more used to Mundungus's brand of self-preservation as well as his lack of what most people considered to be common courtesy or morality.

Another wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as he took the smallest sip of cool water in an attempt to scourge the bitter taste from his mouth, and he spent the next few moments with one hand clasped on each side of the small table on which his water jug was situated, his head bowed as his stomach again threatened rebellion. Get hold of yourself, man, he told himself sternly, knowing that he had much he had to accomplish before the teens came back from Edinburgh.

Slowly and unsteadily, the pale and sweaty werewolf made his way down three flights of steps and into the kitchen, where he tried not to look at the stale loaf of bread and ripe fruit on the countertops as he staggered to the cellar door. Once he had navigated the steep staircase, he looked around the stone room, cluttered with miscellaneous objects and the huge, old-fashioned boiler in the corner. He knew that it would do just fine for his transformation, and he grimaced in anticipation of transforming without the aid of the Wolfsbane potion as he began preparing the room to hold him securely until he was once again safe.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"Expelliarmus!" Harry and Hermione cried as one, easily catching Ron and Ginny's wands as they flew through the air.

Ginny rounded on Harry just as Ron faced Hermione, both of their faces bright red with anger.

"What'd ya want ta go an' do that for?" Mundungus asked plaintively to the two redheads, just as Ron angrily demanded his wand back from Hermione.

"We've got more important things to discuss," Harry said firmly, keeping his gaze locked on Ginny, who looked at him mutinously.

"He abandoned -" Ginny began hotly, but Hermione interrupted her.

"I know he did," she said calmly, pocketing Ron's wand with a glance at him that dared him to try to retrieve it, "and the Order knows where he is now. They will deal with him, I'm sure," she continued, shooting a contemptuous gaze at Mundungus, who looked shocked and more than a little afraid.

Harry nodded his agreement, his eyes pleading with Ginny to understand why he had done what he had just done. If Mundungus was hexed as soundly as he deserved to be, they were not likely to get the information they needed from him, and as much as Harry hated him for betraying Mr. Weasley in battle, the locket was more important. For good measure, Harry shot out his hand and retrieved Mundungus's wand as well. He did not like Ron and Ginny to be defenseless, but one gaze at their red faces told him that they could not be trusted with their wands just yet.

"Tha's mine!" Mundungus protested weakly. Harry ignored him.

"Sit down," he ordered, pointing his own wand at the armchair Mundungus had just vacated. Recognizing that he was trapped, Mundungus obeyed.

"Now," Harry said, staring the older man straight in the eye, "let's talk about the stuff you nicked from Headquarters."

"I didn't - " Mundungus began.

"You did," Hermione interrupted quite calmly, placing a hand in one of her pockets and staring at him.

"Never took nothin' from Head -" he began, but he broke off, his eyes widening, as Hermione removed a small bottle of colorless liquid from her pocket. "Is that -"

"Veritaserum," Hermione confirmed, and Harry glanced at her, astonished.

"About Headquarters," Harry continued, trying to look as though he had known what Hermione had been carrying all along.

"I'm tellin' ya, I didn't do nothin' wrong!" Mundungus protested, his eyes trained on the bottle Hermione was holding aloft.

"Really?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. He turned to Hermione. "I reckon we'll just have to - " he began, indicating the bottle.

"Right," Hermione replied coolly, uncorking the bottle with a small, sucking 'pop.'

"We could probably find out about loads of other stuff while we were at it," Ginny said conversationally, cottoning on as she struggled to let go of her annoyance with Harry.

"Yeah, always knew he deserved Azkaban," Ron said fiercely.

Harry pointed his wand at Mundungus's face while Hermione moved in with the bottle. "Reckon we'll have to force it down his throat, Hermione," he said, drawing back his wand as though preparing to cast a petrifying jinx.

"All right," Mundungus said somewhat frantically. "All right, I took a few things, but nothin' nobody would miss. I got debts to be paid, see, and - "

"We really don't care to hear about your debts, Mr. Fletcher," Hermione said imperiously, recorking the bottle and replacing it in her pocket.

"You just thought you'd go in and nick whatever you could lay your hands on, did you?" Harry said, becoming angry as he thought about his godfather's belongings being treated so cavalierly.

"I jus' went in the basement," Mundungus whined. "Old stuff no one cared for down there, shoved under the boiler like rubbish."

The four teenagers exchanged a glance. If Kreacher had indeed gotten the locket and taken it down to his 'room,' it looked as though Mundungus might have gotten his hands on it.

With difficulty, Harry kept his voice even. "And was there a locket among this 'rubbish?'" he asked coldly.

Mundungus grew obviously uncomfortable. The truth was that the locket he had found had been the only thing that had been of any real value among the broken picture frames and old goblets.

"No," Mundungus answered finally, but his hesitation had been all the teenagers had needed to confirm the answer.

"Where is it?" Harry asked in a low, threatening voice. "Have you sold it yet?"

"I told ya, I don't have it," Mundungus repeated, trying for an innocent tone but failing miserably.

Harry turned to Hermione and nodded. She stuck her hand into her pocket, withdrew Ron's wand and handed it to him, just as Harry did the same with Ginny. Mundungus's eyes widened.

"If he hasn't seen it, he's of no use," Harry said dismissively, turning his back as Ron and Ginny once again trained their wands on the older man's face.

"All right," Mundungus said in alarm as Ron and Ginny raised their wands in preparation to express their displeasure. "I got some kind of a necklace down there," he said resignedly. "Was the only thing that was worth anything, turns out."

"You sold it?" Harry asked, his insides sinking. Slytherin's locket, once it was authenticated, would have been an acquisition Voldemort would have been eager to make even if it was not a horcrux. If Mundungus had sold it, it was very possible that the locket had already come into the wrong hands.

"Yeah," Mundungus grunted, but with Ron's and Ginny's wands trained on him still, he seemed almost eager to share his information. "To a bloke named Fernie Itchering. He robbed me, he did. That locket was worth so much more than - "

"Fernie Itchering?" Harry interrupted, dumbfounded. If Fletcher was telling the truth, Harry had seen the man who had purchased the locket every single day since he had come to the Hog's Head at the start of term.

"Old drunk," Mundungus confirmed contemptuously, shaking his head in disgust and seeming not to take into account that the litter of whisky bottles on the floor rendered him an obvious hypocrite. "Sold it to him a couple a week's ago. Needed a place to stay, you see, an' I - "

"A place to hide, you mean," Ginny interrupted coldly.

Mundungus regarded her mournfully. "Guess I owe you lot a 'pology," he muttered, and Harry was reminded forcibly of the last time he had heard the man say this very thing, before his fifth year when he had been forced to use magic against the dementors in Little Whinging because Mundungus had gone off in search of stolen cauldrons. His insides burned with suppressed rage.

"Ya seem to have come off all right," Mundungus said hopefully.

"It's time to go," Harry said, ignoring him completely and turning towards the door.

A large 'crack' made him stop in his tracks and turn suddenly to see Ginny, her hand still raised, standing over Mundungus, who now had the beginnings of a scarlet red handprint on one cheek. She switched her wand to her other hand and slapped him again on the other cheek, so forcefully that his head snapped to the side. The other three gaped at her. They would not have been surprised if she had hexed him, but this was certainly unexpected.

"That was because my mother won't do it," Ginny spat, breathing heavily. "Stay away from my family, Dung, or you'll be sorry you didn't." With that, she spun on her heel, grabbed Harry's arm, and led them out the door.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Three loud 'pops' announced the arrival of the four teenagers back into Aberforth's back garden, and Ron wasted no time in rounding on Harry, seeming to have forgotten everything that had happened in Edinburgh as though they had never left the garden.

"She's not coming with us! She's going back to school!" he shouted, grabbing the front of Harry's robes and shoving him slightly.

Harry stumbled back, having been completely unprepared for this attack. His mind was still on the locket and the best way to approach Itchering that afternoon. He gaped at Ron, who was as red faced as he had been when facing Mundungus Fletcher. Harry didn't know what to say, but he began, "Look, mate, I...she..." He stopped, feeling stupid.

"Ginny wanted to come," Hermione said simply, stepping between Harry and Ron.

Ron stared incredulously at her. "She's my sister," he said loudly, as though this explained everything.

"That's right," Ginny yelled, pushing past Hermione to get at Ron. "I'm your sister, not your daughter, so get out of it!"

"Bloody right you're not my daughter," Ron retorted. "But what do you think Mum and Dad will say when they find out?"

"We'll tell them together," Harry said quietly, having dreaded this ever since he had told Ginny she could come with him, but Ron and Ginny paid him no heed. They were starting inches apart, their chests heaving as they breathed angrily.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione whispered, tugging at his sleeves. "They have to work this out themselves."

Harry resisted, unwilling to leave Ginny to face such an angry Ron on her own. "Ron, mate," he began futilely. "She would have just - "

"Get out of it, Harry," Ginny said dismissively. "Ronald and I have needed to have this discussion for quite some time now." She turned back to her brother. "Haven't we?" she asked icily, her face quite as red as Ron's.

"You're not of age, and it's too bloody dangerous," Ron hissed. "And you're not coming, and that's final, Ginevra Weasley." He sounded so much like his mother that Harry and Hermione both had to bite back a laugh.

Ginny hissed angrily and drew her wand as Hermione tugged insistently at Harry's robes. "Come on, Harry," she whispered. "You're not helping."

Harry took one last look at the two youngest Weasleys, both of whom were determinedly ignoring him and Hermione and staring daggers at one another. They really didn't have time for this, but Ginny had been right about one thing: she and Ron needed to talk. With a great sigh of mingled annoyance and resignation, he followed Hermione to the staircase leading to his room, trying to ignore the increasingly loud shouts coming from the siblings behind him.

"Go talk to Aberforth," Hermione instructed as soon as the door had closed behind them and they were making their way up the stone staircase. "Tell him what we found out, and have him send the Order after Mundungus. I'm going to take a look at the translations you asked for. Ron and Ginny will come back soon enough."

"What if he - " Harry began, but he wasn't quite sure how to phrase the question. He knew Ron would never intentionally hurt his little sister, but they had been so angry that he wasn't sure about anything.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed. "If we need to worry about either one of them, it's Ron, not Ginny. Now go. They'll be fine, and we've got to move forward with this."

Harry reluctantly conceded the point, wondering if Ron would have giant bogeys attacking his face the next time they met. He smiled slightly as he changed into his tattered, second-hand cloak for the trip down to the main room of the Hog's Head. He knew now that he wanted Ginny to be with them, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling just a little bit sorry for his best friend.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

To Harry's immense disappointment, no one was in the pub when he went down to meet Aberforth. Fernie Itchering and some of the other regulars often showed up around lunchtime and stayed until the pub closed, but today this didn't seem to be the case. Still, Harry thought as he went to the bar and waited for Aberforth to finish restocking the liquor cupboard, at least I don't have to pretend to be drunk this time.

"How'd it go?" Aberforth asked quietly, using his wand to force easy-measure tops on each bottle of liquor on the shelf behind the bar.

"He'd already sold the locket," Harry said, seating himself on one of the familiar wooden barstools.

"Did he say who he sold it to?" Aberforth asked with interest, his eyes continually scanning the pub for any sign of eavesdroppers.

"Yeah," Harry said, leaning forward. "Fernie Itchering."

Aberforth's eyes widened and the bottle he was working on suddenly exploded, showering them both with mead. "Sorry," he blustered, hurriedly extending his wand to remove a small shard of blue glass from Harry's cheek. "You surprised me and this old wand reacts to me a little too readily these days."

"It's OK," Harry said, wiping burning liquid from his eyes and noticing yet again the startling disparity in the magical finesse Dumbledore had always exhibited and the rather unpredictable brand of spellwork Aberforth used. "Can you tell me where he lives?" he asked hopefully, wanting this to be much simpler and quicker than tracking down Mundungus Fletcher. Harry, who had tossed Dung's wand back at him as they had left the flat in Edinburgh, knew that it was possible that Itchering had already been contacted and could, even now, be trying to avoid them. Even knowing that, however, Harry had been unwilling to leave the man defenseless.

"He don't live far from here," Aberforth grunted, lowering his voice as two figures who appeared to be hags came through the door and approached the bar. Turning his back on Harry, he served them two steaming black drinks, nodding irritably at a table in the far corner of the pub. When he was certain they were no longer paying attention, Aberforth scribbled something on a bit of parchment and slid it across the bar to Harry, who pocketed it without reading it.

"If yer not goin' to have a drink, get off wit' ya," Aberforth said loudly and gruffly, making sure the hags could hear them. "This pub ain't for non-payin' customers, and I ain't got no time to listen to yer raving."

Harry, recognizing Aberforth's favorite method of letting him know that it was no longer safe to talk, hopped off his barstool and headed back up to his room, hoping Ron and Ginny had resolved their disagreement and were ready to accompany him to Itchering's flat.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"You think just because you're dating Harry you get to come along with us!" Ron yelled, pulling out his own wand and aiming it at Ginny as soon as Harry and Hermione had disappeared through the door to the staircase. "I've been with Harry for over six years now! You have no idea what you're - "

"Getting myself into, do I?" Ginny shouted back, jabbing her wand at him for emphasis and causing several gold sparks to emit from the end. "You seem to forget that I was at the Ministry over a year ago, and I was in Hyde Park when..." For a moment, she faltered. Even in her anger, it was difficult to speak out loud of her time alone with Voldemort or of Dumbledore's death. "The point is," she said coldly, "I've been through just as much as you have!"

"You're forgetting the time when you got possessed and could have killed a whole lot of people, not to mention almost dying yourself," Ron said, wincing a little at the harshness of his words but not backing down.

Ginny's glare became even fiercer. "And what about the time you covered yourself in brains, Ron? At least my mistakes happened when I was only a first-year. You, on the other hand, don't ever seem to learn."

Ron raised his wand angrily, actually ready to hex his little sister for that comment, but he faltered when a loud 'pop' alerted both of them that they were no longer alone. He and Ginny spun as one, their wands pointed in the direction from which they had heard the sound. Their argument, for the moment, was forgotten.

To their great surprise they found themselves aiming their wands above the intruder, rather than at his chest as they had instinctively intended. A very old house-elf stood with his small, wrinkled arms crossed over an immaculately clean pillowcase toga. The elf was glaring at him angrily as they lowered their wands to his height, staring at him in confusion.

"And who is it that disturbs the peace of this garden?" the elf demanded. "You were not invited here."

"We were, actually," said Ginny, recovering first and attempting to curtail the anger that was still pulsing throughout her body. "Harry brought us. You know Harry Potter?" She knew that this must be Kibbly, the Dumbledore's house-elf. Remembering what Harry had said about his fierce protectiveness, she was cautious, not wanting to anger the elf further.

"Ah, yes. 'Friends' of Harry Potter, are you?" the house-elf said with a surly air to his voice, as though he found it hard to believe.

"I'm his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley" Ginny said quietly, "and this," she jabbed her wand a little too fiercely towards Ron, "is my brother, Ron."

"I'm his best mate," Ron said a little defensively, glaring sideways at his sister. "We're here to help him."

"Harry Potter does not need such 'help,'" Kibbly stated flatly. "Harry Potter requires loyal friends who will stay with him in his time of need, not children who fight amongst themselves."

Ron and Ginny exchanged an astonished glance, unable to believe that they were being told off by a house-elf who was no more than half of Ginny's height. They had both been amused by Harry's stories about Kibbly, but nothing could have prepared them for this. Obviously, Harry had been quite correct in telling them that this was no ordinary elf.

"Erm," Ron said uncomfortably, not quite able to meet Kibbly's gaze.

"Harry Potter requests that his 'friends' meet him in his room," Kibbly said, glaring at them once more before disapparating with another loud 'pop'.

"Why did that elf say we weren't invited if Harry told him to come and fetch us?" Ron asked in confusion, staring at the spot where the elf had been only a moment before.

"He obviously feels that we don't come up to snuff as people Harry should have brought here," Ginny said, feeling a little ashamed of herself. She sighed. "Look, Ron, Harry needs all of us with him. If you really think about it, you'll know that. I only want to help him, to be with him, just like you."

"But I - " Ron began feebly.

"I know you care about me and don't want me to get hurt," Ginny said, trying to be gentle. "I feel the same way about you, as well as Harry and Hermione, but this is more important. We've got to be with Harry now."

"I don't - " Ron tried to continue, but Ginny flared up again.

"Look, if you're not going to get this through your astoundingly thick skull, then we'll have to settle it later," she said, glaring at him and once again holding her wand at the ready. "Only next time, I won't be so friendly about it, will I? You're not going to stop me, so just get over it and focus your energy on doing the job we've come to do." Without waiting for a response, Ginny turned abruptly and strode towards the door to Harry's room. Still looking as though he didn't know what to think or what to do, Ron followed her.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Ron and Ginny were unusually silent as the four teenagers made their way down the dark alley beside the Hog's Head, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry was looking now at dingy signs for the building in which Fernie Itchering kept his flat. He was surprised that he had never before realized that, like any Muggle town he had ever been to, Hogsmeade had a darker section than that which was usually frequented by the students.

They passed very few other people on the road, which was just as well. Though Harry's tattered cloak fit right in with the general feel of the neighborhood, the newer and much cleaner cloaks worn by the other three were quite noticeable.

"This is it," Harry announced grimly as they reached a ramshackle building with obviously magical additions sticking out from all angles. As Hermione and Ginny gaped at a garden seemingly floating on air out the side window of a flat on the second floor, Harry looked at a list of numbers posted on the wall. "It's on the third floor," he told the others quietly, and without a word, they all followed him, a sense of foreboding filling their hearts as they ascended a creaky wooden staircase towards the top of the building.

When they reached the door of Itchering's flat, Hermione reached up and rapped smartly on the decaying wood before standing back and waiting to see whether or not the door would be answered.

"Go 'way," a rough voice, which sounded like it belonged to someone who had just been ripped unpleasantly from a deep sleep, answered.

"Please, sir, we need to see you," Hermione called out to him in the sort of voice she usually reserved for professors. "We're terribly sorry to bother you, but it's quite important."

Harry, Ron and Ginny clucked impatiently as Hermione's polite wheedling seemed to have no effect whatsoever. After another try which produced nothing but a grunt from the other side of the door, Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand. "Alohomora!" she said.

The lock clicked noisily back, and Harry stepped forward to open the door and lead the others inside, his right hand gripping his wand but holding it down.

The inside of the flat strongly resembled the Muggle apartment Mundungus had rented in Edinburgh. Though there was not a Muggle appliance to be found, the threadbare and worn furniture and, more noticeably, the piles of rubbish and spoiled food on the floor spoke strongly of the inhabitant's character and proclivities. Deprived of the entertainment a television might have provided, Itchering seemed to have a particular interest in Playwizard magazines, several of which were on the littered end table, the inhabitants of the pictures shooting seductive glances at Harry and Ron, who stood for a moment, transfixed.

Hermione and Ginny pulled Ron and Harry back, and it seemed for a moment that they were about to give them a telling off, when Fernie Itchering appeared in the doorway that obviously led to his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes even as he held a wand on the four trespassers.

"Get out," he said roughly, without even asking them what they were doing in his flat.

"We're here to discuss some business with you," Harry said with sudden inspiration while the others made ready to draw their own wands. Keeping his right hand clutched around the handle of his wand, Harry casually placed his left hand in the pocket of his robes, moving it around slightly to jangle the small bit of gold he was carrying.

There was no mistaking the greedy interest which came into the older man's eyes at the sound of the clinking coinage and Harry had to bite back a chuckle at the speed at which Itchering arranged his heavily lined and whiskered face into what he obviously thought was an accommodating expression.

"Business, yeh say?" Itchering asked as his eyes looked away from his visitors and began scanning the room. Finally finding what he was looking for and apparently having decided that the four teens in his flat were not a threat to him, he strode toward the filthy kitchen and seized a bottle from the counter.

"Business," Harry repeated firmly as Itchering unscrewed the lid of a new bottle of cheap firewhisky and took a long draught. "I heard that you've come into several new items recently and I'm interested in purchasing at least one of them." For good measure, Harry clinked the coins in his pocket once again.

Wiping his mouth with the back of a dirt-caked hand, Itchering nodded solicitously at him and indicated that the four of them should sit atop the cluttered sofa, which might once have been yellow. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry obeyed, the girls wrinkling their noses in distaste as they perched on the edge of the sofa as though they wanted as little contact with it as possible.

"An' what items might those be?" Itchering asked after he had taken another long gulp from his bottle.

"This and that," Harry said casually, not wanting to seem too eager.

Plopping down in an armchair next to the sofa, Itchering seemed oblivious to the fact that all four teenagers suddenly stopped breathing, having caught their first real whiff of his stench.

Harry recovered first, having become used to the horrible smells of old whisky, morning breath and sweat from his nightly visits to the Hog's Head pub. He waited for Itchering to speak.

"I've, er, acquired several items of interest," Itchering said, leaning forward, "but yeh've obviously 'eard about summat, or yeh wouldn' be here this early, would yeh?"

Ignoring the fact that it was well after noon and not early in the least, Harry also leaned forward, willing himself not to recoil as the stench grew stronger. "I'm told that you bought a gold locket a couple of weeks ago," he said nonchalantly.

"Present fer yer girlfriend, eh?" Itchering replied, leering at Ginny, who was sitting closest to Harry.

Trying to ignore the rage that blossomed in his chest when Itchering looked at Ginny, Harry nodded. "It's just what I've been looking for," he said. "How much would you want for it?" He clinked his coins again.

Itchering looked at him, frowning. "I don' have th' locket no more," he said. "Sold it not three days ago to a bloke 'oo came in th' pub. Done business with 'im before, yeh see, an' I didn't know yeh'd be interested. I've seen yeh before, yeh know."

Harry had not realized that Itchering would have recognized him. Pulling the hood of his cloak a bit further down his face in an effort to make sure his scar remained hidden, he asked, "Who did you sell it to?" Harry tried to keep the desperation from his voice, but he was suddenly very afraid that the locket might already be back in Voldemort's hands.

"Borgin," Itchering grunted. "Cheapskate," he muttered. "Woulda sold it to yeh, I would've. Yeh seem like a man of, er, principals." His eyes strayed to Harry's pocket. "Yeh wouldn't've cheated me, would yeh?"

"Borgin," Hermione interjected, "from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley?"

"Aye," Itchering grunted, taking another swig of his whisky and dribbling a fair bit of it down the front of his robes. "Yeh should've said summat sooner. Had that locket on me in th' pub every nigh'. Not safe to leave valuables 'ere." He seemed to be becoming more talkative and bitterer about his missed sale with each draught of the whisky.

Harry's insides twisted unpleasantly. Whether this was because the locket had been in his close proximity every night without his knowledge or because his stomach was beginning to revolt against the disgusting smells issuing from the man in front of him, he didn't know or care. He stood abruptly. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Itchering," he said stiffly, indicating to the others that it was time to go.

"I've go' other things that might interest yeh!" Itchering protested as they made their way back to the front door. "Got some right pretty baubles in me case, 'ere." He indicated a tattered leather briefcase on the floor next to his chair.

"I was only interested in the locket," Harry said, throwing caution to the winds in his eagerness to leave the apartment. Hermione trod on his foot, reminding him not to make too much of an issue of it.

"I've always wanted a gold locket like that," Ginny said, smiling coyly as she tried to cover Harry's mistake, "and when I heard you'd got one, I insisted that we come here. I'm sorry you don't have it anymore."

Itchering leered at her again, showing yellowed and cracked teeth caked with the grime of obvious dental neglect, and Harry only barely restrained himself from hexing him into oblivion while Hermione grabbed the back of Ron's robes, holding him back with difficulty.

"Right, we'll just go now," Ginny said brightly, opening the door and grabbing Harry's arm to pull him through the door just ahead of Hermione and an obviously struggling Ron.

When the door had closed behind them, Ginny and Hermione led Harry and Ron, both of whom were still furious, back down the stairs, not speaking until they had reached the street.

"Bugger!" Ron said angrily. "See why I said you shouldn't - "

Ginny rolled her eyes and interrupted. "Honestly, Ron, if you're going to say I shouldn't come along just because the likes of that dirty old man looked at me the wrong way, save your breath."

Ron closed his mouth, still very red in the face, and didn't speak as they walked quickly back to the Hog's Head. Now that Fernie Itchering had come into contact with Harry, they all knew it was not safe to remain at the pub even if the older man hadn't known exactly who he was talking to. Word was bound to get out that someone had been seeking Slytherin's locket.

Grabbing his things and saying a quick goodbye to Aberforth, Harry met the others in the garden. He wanted to go straight to Knockturn Alley, but before he did anything else, he tried to contact Lupin using his amulet.

Minutes passed, the four teens looking more and more worried when there was no answer.

"It's not the full moon yet," Hermione whispered worriedly. "There's no reason he shouldn't be answering."

"Maybe he just doesn't have his amulet on him," Ginny pointed out, and Harry looked at her with some relief. Just because Lupin wasn't answering didn't necessarily mean that anything bad had happened to him.

"He always wears it now," Ron contradicted her. "Ever since Harry left Headquarters, he never takes it off, does he, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione answered, looking all the more worried.

"Right," Harry said. "We'll stop at Headquarters first, then. We'll check on him and then we'll go to the shop. I'll probably need to go to Gringotts as well, though. Borgin's going to charge a fortune for that locket even if he only paid a song for it." He tried not to focus on his worry for Lupin, telling himself firmly that his guardian was most likely just taking a kip on the sofa or a shower or something like that.

"Does everyone have their things?" Hermione asked, her tone suddenly all business. They all nodded, patting their various bags and pockets unconsciously. "Right," she said briskly. "Let's go."

Harry felt Ginny grab firmly onto his upper arm, and in another moment, the four of them had Apparated into the back garden of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where a safe Apparation Point had been set up.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Once they had quickly glanced at each other to confirm that everyone had made it safely and unsplinched, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all hurried toward the back door of Grimmauld Place, intent upon making sure Lupin was ok before continuing their mission. The locket seemed so close now that they were back in London that all of them thought it best to get to Knockturn Alley as quickly as possible; however, to all four of them and especially to Harry, making sure Lupin was safe took precedence even over finding Voldemort's horcrux.

As they entered the kitchen to Grimmauld Place, they were met with a sight that, at that particular moment, proved more fearsome to all of them than Lord Voldemort surrounded by Death Eaters.

Molly Weasley's face contorted in rage as soon as she saw them come through the back door. Trying her best to occupy herself while she waited to find out why Ginny was not in school, she had been making tea and toast in the large kitchen for a pale and sick-looking Remus Lupin, who glanced at them apologetically when they all stopped on the spot, looking nothing short of terrified.

"Mum," Ginny began, thinking she might be able to defuse her mother before she exploded. "I was just about to Floo - "

"You were just about to Floo," Mrs. Weasley cut across her angrily. "You were just about to Floo, hours after you left school without my permission, without a note or a single word of explanation! I've been so worried!"

For the first time in his memory, Mrs. Weasley abruptly turned to glare lividly at Harry, looking as though she would like nothing better than to shake him or to box his ears. "You promised me," she stated, her voice growing louder with every word. "You promised me, Harry James Potter! You said you would see her safely to school, and you never once told me that you were going to -"

"It was my decision, Mum," Ginny said, her voice trembling slightly even as she stood as straight as she could next to Harry, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"It was not your decision to make, young lady!" Mrs. Weasley shouted before turning her glare back on Harry, who had never been told off like this by someone who he knew loved him. It was different than Aunt Petunia's rants, as Aunt Petunia had never shown any inclination to do anything to Harry other than shout at him, and he briefly wondered if this was what it would have felt like to be told off by his own mother.

He did not have much time to ponder over this, however, as Mrs. Weasley strode forward and grabbed his upper arms, shaking him slightly. Harry thought he could actually feel her anger coursing through her hands and into his body, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to continue to look her straight in the eye. "Mrs. Weasley, I - "

"Do not interrupt me, young man," Mrs. Weasley said even though she had not been speaking at the time. "Ginevra is my daughter, and you are like my son. I might not have been able to stop you from leaving school, but she is still underage and nothing you do will stop me from trying to keep her safe!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it as he saw Ron frantically shaking his head at him from next to Lupin, where he and Hermione had retreated as soon as was possible.

"You have betrayed my trust," Mrs. Weasley continued, releasing her hold on Harry's arms and lowering her voice, speaking coldly in a way that was much more hurtful to Harry than having been shouted at. She looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry as though deciding what punishment would best fit what they had done. After a moment, she said simply, "You are coming with me, Ginevra. You are going back to school and I will be revoking all permission to leave the castle for the remainder of the term. We will revisit this issue at Christmas."

"No, Mum," Ginny said quietly, having carefully restrained herself to let her mother finish what she was trying to say. "I will not be returning to school, with you or otherwise."

Mrs. Weasley's face, if it were possible, went even redder. "You will do as you are told, young lady, and you," she glared at Harry again as her voice rose in volume, "will as well! I will not sit here and wait for something dreadful to happen to one of you, do you hear me? I just won't do it! I want Ginny back at school, and you, Ron and Hermione will be returning to the Burrow with me!"

Ron and Ginny shouted in unison, their voices drowning each other out though their meaning was perfectly clear. Mrs. Weasley raised her voice even more to be heard over the increasing din. "Be quiet, you two!" she yelled to no avail.

She looked once again at Harry, who was startled to find that she now had tears running down her face, though that did not stop her from speaking angrily once again. "None of you had my permission to take Ginny out of school," she repeated loudly. "How could you, Harry? I trusted you."

She was standing so close to Harry that he could not only hear what she was saying but also the mixture of rage and deep hurt in her shouts, and her last statement seemed to cut him straight to the bone. He stared at her, not even noticing the semi-reproachful glance from his ill guardian or the sympathetic one from Hermione, who still seemed to be trying to stay out of the fray. He didn't even realize that Ron and Ginny had stopped shouting, aghast at what their mother had said to Harry.

"We're all trusting him, Mum," Ginny said, breaking the momentary silence. "Only it's not enough for us to just sit back and wait for him to save everyone, is it?" Her tone, though very quiet, had more than a little bite to it, and everyone else felt the already-palpable tension in the room increase tenfold.

"How could you possibly say that, Ginevra Weasley," Molly seethed, turning towards her daughter and looking, for a moment, like she wanted to slap her. She didn't touch her, however, just looked her straight in the eyes as she continued, "your father nearly died for Harry, and Fred - " She broke off, the tears of anger and sadness in her eyes finally spilling over.

"Fred is one more reason why we have to end this," Ron said, startling everyone as he strode around the table and putting a calming hand on his mother's shoulder. Even Hermione looked surprised. "You know the Prophecy, Mum. You know what Harry has to do, and you know he can't do it alone, and even if he could, he shouldn't have to."

Ginny, Harry and Hermione all gaped at Ron, who they had expected to completely take their mother's side regarding Ginny's participation in their mission. Lupin raised his eyebrows, marveling at how much the tall redhead seemed to have grown in just a matter of a few weeks.

Mrs. Weasley gazed helplessly at all of them. "But what are you doing?" she asked finally, anger still in her voice though she seemed to have been deflated somewhat by Ron's words. "Why did you all leave school? What could be more important than staying safe until you're ready to...to..." She seemed unable to complete the statement, unable to speak aloud the dreadful sentence that seemed to have been passed down to Harry, and through him, to two of her own children.

"We're getting ready," Harry said a bit feebly, knowing he couldn't tell Mrs. Weasley about the Horcruxes but uncomfortable with keeping the information from her all the same. "There are things I have to do before I can fight him, or else I'd seek him out right now and end this."

"But you're not ready," Mrs. Weasley whispered the words she had said so often to all of them in the past few months.

"You're right, he's not," Hermione said finally, and four pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. "That's part of what we're doing, Mrs. Weasley. We want to make sure that when the time comes, Harry and the rest of us survive. We've got to do this. There simply isn't another way." She spoke calmly, but Harry noticed that her hand, which had been perched gently on Lupin's shoulder throughout the debate, was now gripping his robes so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Mrs. Weasley sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, burying her face in her hands, all the fight seeming to have gone out of her. Harry glanced at Lupin, who nodded imperceptibly towards Mrs. Weasley, indicating that Harry should go to her.

Awkwardly, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, startled and chagrined to feel her trembling beneath his touch. The enormity of his task and of what he had asked the others to help him do crashed down upon him as he realized that he was, at least indirectly, causing Mrs. Weasley to have to live out her greatest fear, to have to live with the fact that her own children were going to follow him into more danger than most adult wizards would face in their entire lives.

Ginny came to stand behind Harry, placing her small hand next to his on her mother's shoulder, and they were joined a moment later by Ron and Hermione, each of them reaching out to touch Mrs. Weasley in some small way. Of all of them, Harry realized that she stood to lose the most, for all of her children were now either members of the Order or determined to follow Harry as he sought out the most evil wizard of all time. Silently, as they all stood frozen in the kitchen, he promised himself that he would do whatever he had to do to keep Ron, Hermione and Ginny safe, no matter what it took.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

After assurances from Lupin that the only thing the matter with him was a moderate case of the stomach flu, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, each of them cloaked against the chilly fall air, attempting to keep their identities as hidden as possible. All of them resisting the temptations offered by their favorite shops (Ron repeatedly reminding Hermione that going to Flourish and Blotts was not a good idea), they proceeded straight to Gringotts. Only when they were safely at one of the back booths of the long marble counter did Harry remove his hood and request to be taken to his vault.

The fast, downward-descending ride down the tracks into the underground vaults of Gringotts left them all a little bit breathless, and Harry fought a stab of embarrassment as his vault was opened, revealing the piles of gold his parents had left him as well as a considerable amount that had been transferred from the Black family vault at Remus's request more than a year before.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered behind him, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Harry's wealth. He had seen inside Harry's vault once before, but that had been before Sirius's death.

Trying to ignore him, Harry asked Hermione, "How much do you reckon we'll need to buy the locket?"

Hermione looked unsure. "From everything we've heard, Harry, I would guess that it will be quite expensive. Two thousand galleons, maybe?"

"Two thousand galleons?" Ron whispered to Ginny as Harry asked the goblin who had accompanied them to withdraw the requested amount and place it into several small bags.

His pockets now heavy with more gold than he had ever carried, Harry climbed back into the cart, offering his hand to help Ginny over the side as Ron did the same for Hermione. Both girls giggled suddenly as the cart began its ascent back to street level.

"What's that about?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione suspiciously.

"You two," Ginny answered, giggling again.

Harry and Ron looked at one another, their expressions confused. "What are they on about?" Ron whispered loudly.

"Dunno," Harry whispered as the girls began to laugh a bit more loudly.

"It's just that, everything we've done together, all that dangerous stuff, and you think Hermione and I need help getting into the cart!" Ginny finally answered.

Ron sighed in exasperation. "We were just trying to be gentlemen," he informed them, looking hurt.

"Shouldn't we do that?" Harry asked. From everything he had seen from the various dating couples at Hogwarts, girls liked it when their boyfriends did things like hold doors open and help them in and out of carriages.

"I think it's very nice, Harry," Ginny answered quickly, risking falling over the side of the cart as she stood and moved to give him a kiss, lurching slightly against him as they went around a particularly sharp curve.

"So do I," Hermione assured Ron, though she did not move from her seat as Ginny had.

"Ground level," the goblin announced as the cart came to an abrupt stop. Slightly dizzy, the four teenagers were happy to put their feet on solid ground again, and Harry replaced his cloak before they went out onto the street.

They walked quickly through Diagon Alley where they drew suspicious glances from the few shoppers who dared to be out in public. Though being hooded was common practice in the Hog's Head, it was currently regarded as highly dodgy behavior in most Wizarding areas, for obvious reasons.

It was almost a relief to make the turn into Knockturn Alley, where Harry knew that their cloaks would actually help them fit into the crowd rather than stick out. Leading the way to Borgin and Burks, Harry was about to go through the front door of the shop when Hermione suddenly stopped him.

"Don't go in there, Harry," she hissed urgently.

"Why not?" Harry asked, tensing and gripping his wand tightly, unsure of whether or not Hermione had seen something suspicious.

"You're too recognizable, even in that cloak," she told him.

"Oh, er, right," Harry said, trying to decide how best to handle the situation.

"Let me," Ron said with forced nonchalance. "The cloak covers my hair, and no one in there ought to recognize me."

Harry glanced at his friend, wondering why he was so eager to complete the transaction himself. The answer seemed obvious a few moments later, however, when they had ducked into a dark side alley so that Harry could give Ron the ugly, second-hand cloak he was wearing as well as the money they had withdrawn from Gringotts a few moments before.

Ron carefully weighed the bags of gold in his hand, staring at them for a few moments until Ginny cleared her throat impatiently.

"Oh," Ron said, trying to seem casual as he stowed the bags into his pockets, patting them to see that they remained secure. "Right. I'll just go in, then."

The wait seemed interminable, as they had not thought to bring any Extendable Ears with them and they could not risk being seen outside the shop while Ron was trying to get the locket. After what seemed like ages, Ron emerged and met them back in the side alley, his expression disgruntled.

Harry's heart sank. The locket must already have been sold. "So you didn't get it, then," he stated flatly.

"I did," Ron answered, pulling a long, slender box from his pocket. "But that Borgin's a right git, you know that?"

"I've heard," Harry said absently as he glanced around to make sure no one was observing them before carefully opening the box.

"That's it!" Hermione whispered excitedly as Ginny gripped Harry's arm through his cloak. "It's got Slytherin's insignia on it! That's got to be the right one; it's just like the drawing in Dum-"

"Hermione!" Harry whispered. "Be quiet!"

She broke off, looking at once ashamed of her excitement and stung by Harry's rebuke.

"It cost 1750 galleons," Ron whispered indignantly. "I tried to bargain with him but he just went and raised the price! Sorry, Harry," he added. "I could have got it for 1500 if I hadn't argued."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said dismissively, closing the box again and stowing it in the innermost pocket of his robes and then sealing the pocket with a flick of his wand so that there was no chance the locket would fall out on their journey back to Headquarters. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "Did Borgin think there was anything suspicious about you buying it?"

"Didn't seem to," Ron answered. "Once he saw that I had the gold, that is."

"Word must not have gotten back to him yet," Ginny whispered with some relief. "If he knew what he had, he would never have sold it."

"True," Harry said. "All the same, though, I think we ought to get back." He was eager to show the locket to Lupin and to figure out how to destroy it, and at the same time, knowing he was carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul in his pocket did not give him a good feeling at all.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

They arrived at Grimmauld Place a few moments later, all of them now feeling a heavy weight of dread as they wondered what it would take to destroy the horcrux. Destroying the diary had almost cost Harry and Ginny their lives, and destroying the Gaunt Ring had badly affected even Dumbledore. What would it take this time?

The kitchen was surprisingly empty when they came in. They had expected to have to find a way to get around Mrs. Weasley without arousing undue suspicion, and Harry was concerned to find that Lupin was not their either. He hoped nothing had happened while they had been gone.

Feeling as though he was being dragged down by the weight of the object in his pocket, Harry sat at the kitchen table.

"Do you want me to go find Professor Lupin, love?" Ginny asked, giving him a concerned glance. Harry nodded.

"I'll make sure Mum's not hovering around," Ron said, following his sister out of the kitchen.

Hermione sat across from Harry, muttering something in Latin that he didn't recognize. He supposed she was practicing the translations she had been working on, but he couldn't find it in himself to take much notice.

Splitting his inner pocket with his wand, Harry once again removed the long box containing the locket, wondering what Voldemort would think when he found out it had been lost and how it had gotten to the Black Family Manor in the first place.

Harry picked up the locket which, though it was quite heavy, offered no resistance to him as he lifted it out of the box and examined it. It seemed almost as though it was radiating raw magical power as it slowly turned on its chain, glinting in lamplight.

Now what? he wondered.