Marked

"Why does it keep coming out to eleven?" Hermione mumbled.

At his girlfriend's question, Harry looked up from his homework. She'd been poring over the same sheets of parchment and talking to herself for nearly an hour, apparently no closer to a solution than she had been when she'd sat down in the library. He had considered asking her if she needed help. Spotting the Arithmancy books nearby, Harry decided he was better off not asking. He had given up attempting to understand the complicated numeric method of prediction years before.

Without warning, Hermione swore loudly and shoved the topmost parchment across the table with one hand. It knocked into a bottle of ink and she swore again as the ink spread across the table.

Harry frowned as she cleaned up the mess, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just this Arithmancy chart. I don't think I'm interpreting it correctly," Hermione said. When the ink had been siphoned back into the bottle, she picked up her parchment and scanned the charts and notes she'd been working on. "I should be able to predict what will happen, but for some reason I can't. Maybe I should ask Professor Vector what it is I'm not seeing. Maybe there's another method." She looked up at Harry with tear-filled eyes. "I see you don't understand," she said quietly.

"One method is to use both your names against You-Know-Who's and determine which of your names calculates to a more powerful number. It's very basic and not a surefire means to decide anything," Hermione explained. "It's more a way to determine your general life path and strengths than anything specific. You and Neville calculate to the same number, which not only indicates that you should definitely work in unity, but the number itself shows you'll find a completion to your journey together. We already knew you'd have to work together from the prophecy. As far as You-Know-Who is concerned, using both his given name and the one he's taken for himself, it's determined that you and Neville should beat him in any contest if you work together," she said.

"By becoming Lord Vo--" She paused. "By becoming someone, something else, creating multiple Horcruxes and other horrendous things, at his core he has become less powerful," Hermione said. "He sealed that by attacking both you and Neville as children and transferring some of his powers to you," she added, reminding Harry of Dumbledore's initial prophecy explanation.

"Of course, I got nearly the opposite result using a supposedly more reliable method," Hermione remarked, looking down at the parchment she'd pushed away. "You and You-Know-Who appear to balance each other and Neville could either represent a conflict to that balance or the deciding factor in a victory. Some dates are luckier for you than others, some for Neville, but very few are powerful for both of you. And, taking your birthdays into account, the two of you together should have strength and good fortune to combat You-Know-Who's power." She sniffled. "Also, I've gotten eleven several times for you alone--in your birthday and with several future dates--which could either mean exceeding beyond conflict or...peril," she whispered.

"Proper application of Arithmancy has never failed to predict specific events of the future." Hermione sighed and shuffled through her notes until she came to another page. "I don't know if I have the wrong numbers or if I don't fully understand the methods, but I can't predict what will happen with you and Neville and You-Know-Who." She waved a hand in his direction before Harry could comment. "Of course what I just told you applies. I can predict what's most likely to happen, but there are so many conflicting numbers and I have no way of knowing when--" She stopped talking abruptly and swore again, wiping at her eyes quickly.

Harry reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his. He hadn't understood most of that rambling explanation, but he could see that she was upset about her conclusions. Of course, he also wasn't comfortable about any prediction that showed him in peril. He just wasn't going to worry himself about it like Hermione was. Hadn't Dumbledore told him his fate had already been decided? Not a comforting thought, the idea that there was little he and Neville could do in the face of the inevitable. Realistic, but disturbing nonetheless. Harry preferred not to think about it.

He squeezed Hermione's hand. "It may just be that this is the first situation that's impossible to predict," Harry said. "I'm sure the professor will tell you that."

"You don't understand!" She blurted in a raised voice. "The two of you and You-Know-Who together represent eight, a pair of opposites. It's the least predictable number. It could represent total success or total failure. Bellatrix Lestrange has the same number. There are several dates in the next few weeks that come to the same," Hermione said.

"I've looked at your birthdays, your power traits, and your life paths using two different conversions." She held up several parchments covered with lines and numbers for Harry's inspection. "I'm also trying to see if you'll even be alive past a certain date and the result is mixed with both methods," Hermione said, her voice shaking. She sniffled. "It doesn't make any sense." She let the parchment fall to the table and wiped at her eyes again. "It's never failed before," she repeated. "I need to do more research." Before Harry could say anything else, she pulled her hand from beneath his and disappeared behind the next shelf.

A minute later, he was up and after her. Harry found Hermione at the far end of a row in the back of the library, leaning against a shelf. When he reached her, she turned into his arms immediately, crying against his shoulder as he held her.

One of the worst aspects of their situation was that they hardly got to spend any time together where one of them wasn't preoccupied. They were constantly thinking about the inevitable conclusion to the coming battle or bogged down with petty school concerns. For Harry, homework had become an afterthought. He only did it to force himself to spend a few hours thinking of something other than defensive spells and funeral arrangements. Sex had been a decent distraction, but over the past several days their nightly jaunts had tapered off. They'd ended up doing little more than huddling together on a chair in the common room, staring into the fire and lost in their own thoughts.

They hadn't talked about the Horcrux situation since the medical examination Dumbledore had conducted the previous Sunday. Harry had expected Hermione to spend all of her spare time in the library researching what little information was available on extraction and magical devices, but she'd devoted herself almost entirely to preparing for the coming battle and learning fighting techniques. It was so unlike her not to obsess over every detail, but Harry could hardly blame her for not wanting to talk about what it might take to remove the piece of Voldemort's soul. He spent a good deal of his own time working to not think about it.

Still, he hated to think they had both given up that easily. Her comments about Arithmancy were the first Harry had heard she was thinking of the full meaning of the prophecy and how it could affect he and Neville, especially with all they'd learned recently. She'd seemed so focused on the fight, he'd barely stopped to think of how everything else they'd learned was affecting Hermione, especially their barely discernable chance of winning.

Now, with her rambling explanation and the crying fit that had probably been building for a while, he began to question why he hadn't noticed how she'd been distracting herself sooner. His own complicated thoughts, he supposed. Then Harry wondered what comfort, if any, he could offer her. This wasn't like the situation before, with Snape. Harry had felt hoping for any salvation was pointless and she had kept pushing until he believed they could find a cure for the curse. Now, they shared the hopelessness that had come when Hermione had told him he was a Horcrux. What comfort could he offer knowing he might either die fighting Voldemort one day or be killed trying to get rid of the last of him?

Hermione sniffled and drew back from Harry, moving to lean against the dusty shelf behind her. "I'm sorry," she said. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what came over me."

"Hermione, I don't blame you for being upset," Harry said. "The whole situation is intense."

"But in your past I was never like this," she commented. She wiped at her eyes quickly with both hands. "I helped you do research and snuck around the school with you and never once was I a mess like I am today." Hermione shrugged. "That's actually the third time this week. I did it in Ancient Runes yesterday. I was sent out of class early so I could fall apart in my dorm in peace."

"I know we've talked about this before--"

"Harry please," Hermione began. "If you're going to say what I think you are, stop it now."

"If this is too hard for you, let me know. I'll understand," Harry whispered. She shook her head at his words. "It was different in my past because we weren't together, but I never showed you all of those memories when you were worried about me. There were a lot of times when it was hard for us. This is worse. We know more about what I'm facing and--look at me." Slowly, Hermione raised her eyes to his. They were brimming with fresh tears.

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

"No, of course not," he said. "I don't like the idea of being alone right now." He took her hand in his. "I know you're doing the best you can," Harry said. "I appreciate everything you're doing to help me, but if you're overwhelmed, maybe you should take some time to yourself." Harry bit his tongue abruptly and winced from the sudden pain. He didn't know where that had come from and didn't recognize the thought even as he spoke it. He felt Hermione's confusion as she looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I think we should talk about how we want to handle things--our relationship--until Dumbledore has a solid plan." He swallowed hard and looked down. It was getting to the point where just seeing her cry had the power to make him feel sick. He hated doing this to her, but he couldn't stop the pain this was causing any more than he could keep Voldemort from going after Neville. "I'm not saying this to hurt you, Hermione," Harry said. "But if it helps you deal with everything better, we can cool things down between us."

Something inside him began praying that Hermione would say no, she would follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant she could find a way to save him. It was a selfish thought, but he wasn't sorry. When she looked up at him, he knew she could read what he was thinking as easily as if he'd said it aloud. She understood that he didn't want to let her go as much as she hadn't wanted to let him go since they'd gotten close. They'd bonded in a way he never would've been able to predict when their relationship began. It was one of the factors that gave him the strength he needed to plan for this fight. The drawback was that being with her made him feel everything he might lose a hundred times more. Harry almost longed for the days when he could numb himself to the pain of what was happening to him, when he didn't have a family--real loved ones who could be left behind.

She was silent for a full minute before she spoke. "It would not help to have you pull away from me now. I know why you have this habit of just shutting yourself off from people when things get rough, but you're not going to do it to me," Hermione said. "I can deal with it." She sniffled again and Harry reached out a hand to her shoulder.

"I know you think that, but it's a lot to ask from anyone."

"You're not asking and I'm not giving you a choice," she responded. "I'm not going to just abandon you. I helped save you before and I can do it again." Before Harry could argue with her, she titled her head to the side and pointed. "Ron."

Harry turned his head as the other boy approached; he instinctively drew Hermione closer to him. As Neville followed Ron to where they stood, Hermione stiffened. Squeezing her against his side, Harry turned to his roommates when they stopped.

"Is it that time already?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded. "I just saw McGonagall. He's sent a message that he'll be here as soon as he wraps up a meeting."

Harry frowned again, his eyes going to Hermione. She was still sniffling, but had composed her face into a stiff mask. Feeling his eyes on her, she worked up a small smile.

"Are you going to be all right? If you need me here, I can meet with Dumbledore later," Harry said.

"I'll be fine," Hermione said. "We can talk later. Go to your meeting."

"I'll take care of her," Ron said, stepping closer. "Don't worry."

Harry frowned but said nothing. He and Hermione would need to have a long talk, and soon. It was bad enough they'd hardly talked about anything of importance over the past week, but for her to act like she was handling it well was just setting herself up for a major crash--more than just a crying fit in the library. Nodding once at Hermione and Ron, he brushed past Neville on his way back to the table to pick up his books and homework.

It had to be done. Bellatrix knew it as surely as she knew the Dark Lord would rise again and be grateful to her--indebted even--for her tireless service to him. She would be rewarded, richly. She would take her rightful place by his side, Narcissa would forgive her and order would finally be in their sights. It was only a matter of time. That, and patience with the willful boy her sister had raised. Draco would have to be handled. She had been too soft on him in the past, but that was going to change. Bellatrix had no doubt he had already seen the error of his ways and would do his best to see her pleased before anything...irrevocable happened. And if he didn't? She would do what needed to be done to exact her revenge. Then she would find another way for the Dark Lord to return to strength.

She had no other choice. Without him, everything would fall apart. She would fall apart. Bella felt uneasy in thinking of herself in those terms, but since the day she'd pledged herself into his service, she knew the Dark Lord held her in a way she could not break. She was not lost without him, but rather strengthened by his strength. She was not powerless without him, but invincible in his service. She was not merely a minion to do his bidding, but the unshakeable hand that would support him in his greatness. There was no greater honor and she would give herself fully to him until she passed from this life. Her life could serve no other purpose.

Bellatrix crossed the dimly lit bedroom and conjured a chair next to the king size bed. Sitting quietly, she gazed down at the pale, drawn features of her master and frowned. He had been gathering strength slowly over the past several days, but was nowhere near where he should have been were he making a natural recovery from an injury. But this was not natural, she reminded herself. This was her nephew's doing. A mistake for which he would pay dearly.

In the few hours Voldemort had been able to stay awake on his own, the Strengthening Solution Bella had given him had produced limited affect. There was something fundamentally wrong, and nothing Bella could do about it. She could hardly remove his soul and start over again, hoping the result would be better the next time. She could only suffer while he did and wait for her nephew to be forced to see reason. When the Dark Lord could be left for longer periods of time, she would be more proactive in finding a solution. For now, she was forced to wait. With each hour and day that passed, her plans for her nephew grew darker still.

A movement at the edge of her vision drew her unfocused eyes to the head of the bed. Voldemort shifted again under the heavy coverlet and opened his eyes slowly. He squinted at Bellatrix before his flat mouth settled into its customary frown.

"Is there news?"

Bellatrix barely had time to give the usual answer before Voldemort responded with a whispered curse. She wished she could do something to soothe his anger, but she deserved every bit of enmity he flung her way, helpless as she was to fix his situation at present.

"Where is Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix flinched at the mention of her husband. He rarely inquired of the others, and she had begun to think he was content with bedside service from her. Surely he was not about to send her away in favor of someone else. "He...knows I cannot leave you now," she said. "He and the others are doing work. In your name," she added.

"In my name?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he pushed himself higher on the bed; his hands slipped before he was finally able to settle himself against the headboard. "What can they do in my name? What I should be able to do for myself?"

Bella frowned and drew her arms around herself. "Each death is a tribute to you, my Lord. Every Muggle tortured and screaming before their life is taken is a show of the strength of support for you," she whispered. "The Ministry cannot control us. I thought you would be pleased to know--"

"You thought I might be pleased to know my strongest supporters are playing childish games with the lives of those beneath us?" Voldemort asked abruptly. Though his body was weak, the sudden strength of his voice as he spoke left no question as to how he would express his displeasure if he were capable. "I do not care what happens to them, one way or the other. I am concerned, as always, with your...half-formed plans to restore me to full power."

A corner of his mouth lifted in what Bella could only assume was his attempt at a smile. The gesture gave her a chill, but something inside forced her to draw closer to him. "I am doing my best, my Lord. Soon I will have the spell--"

"You have been saying that for nearly a week, Bella," he drawled, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Am I to believe your nephew has been able to outsmart you this long?" His head tilted to the side as he observed her quick flush. "You, who I had thought so capable before. Perhaps I should have young Mr. Malfoy as my second if he is so cunning."

"No," Bellatrix said. "He is a child and he thinks this another game. I will straighten him out soon," she said, her voice hard. She thought fleetingly of her sister, one floor beneath them, a slow-acting poison keeping her paralyzed. If Draco did not come forward soon, he would regret it. In more ways than one. "Getting into the school will be complicated. But I will not leave you alone until I know you have the strength for it."

"How touching," Voldemort said. He closed his eyes. "Your efforts have not gone unnoticed." He spoke the words softly after several seconds of silence, as if responding to the silent pleas for undeserved patience in her eyes.

"Master, I--"

"Shh, Bella," he whispered. "Do not misunderstand. I am not overlooking your mistakes so far. But I am aware that you are doing a great deal for me." He opened his eyes and locked gazes with her. "You have sacrificed much for very little in return."

After waiting to make sure he was done speaking, she said, "It has all been worth it. For you." Slowly, she moved one hand over the coverlet until it brushed over his. When he didn't draw back, she curled her fingers around his. After a few seconds, the heat of her hand began to warm his skin. "I will do anything you need of me," Bella whispered.

"That is a broad offer," he responded, his mouth lifting in that strange semblance of a smile again.

Bella returned the gesture with a small smile of her own. "I am open to whatever you wish." She leaned closer to the bed, her breath suspended.

Voldemort's eyes held hers for several seconds again. Feeling the gentle probe of his mind into hers, she relaxed and let him read her unfiltered thoughts. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. Slowly, he turned Bella's hand over onto the bed, allowing his long fingers to stroke over her palm and wrist as he measured her offer. Without removing her eyes from his, Bellatrix reached into her pocket with her other hand and pulled out a vial of Strengthening Solution. She flicked the cork out of the top with her thumb and held it to his lips wordlessly, her slight smile broadening slightly as Voldemort worked the potion down his throat. When the vial was emptied, she placed it on the table next to the bed.

"Master?" She paused and her hand fluttered under his on the bed. "Is there another service you require of me?" she asked breathlessly.

Voldemort smiled before whispering a spell into the quiet that followed her question. Bellatrix did not have to look down to know that her robes had just disappeared. The sting of cold air against her skin was nothing to the way she became aware of her nakedness as his eyes slowly brushed over her body before returning to lock with hers. As her master pulled her onto the bed with his new strength, Bella's mouth parted on a small sigh.

There is no greater honor, she thought as he moved over her. No greater reward for a faithful servant.

"What do you think he's going to say?" Neville asked.

Harry looked up at the other boy in surprise. After they'd come into Professor McGonagall's office to wait for the Minister, they'd taken to their respective chairs in silence. He didn't know about Neville, but he had a lot more pressing things on his mind than Dumbledore's pointless medical exam--what he was going to do about Hermione, whether he would have to say goodbye to his mother and sister for good, if there was even the remotest chance of surviving a fight against Voldemort, and what would happen if they did. The interference from the Minister almost seemed inconsequential compared to everything else.

It was even harder on Neville. Harry could understand why he was having a harder time dealing with the situation; he hadn't been attacked nearly every year he'd been at school. He'd been thrust into the situation with no warning. Knowing your life could end at someone else's hand in a short time wasn't something one just got used to. While Harry could easily prioritize his thoughts and choose where to put his energy, Neville was busy trying to focus only on what was most important to everyone else--a task that would drive him crazy when it came to dwelling on the details of what might happen.

"I don't know what he'll say," Harry responded after a minute. "I expect it won't be much to help us. What could he possibly find that would be different from what we already know?"

"A way to get it out without killing us would be nice, for starters," Neville said. "I can't believe he's known we were Horcruxes all this time and never said anything."

"He claims he only suspected," Harry reminded him. "The proof was when we collapsed in class a few weeks ago." Harry looked down at his hands. "I don't know if we should believe him on that, but I'm willing to go along with it for now. Especially because nothing major had happened with your scar before."

"Right." Neville reached up to brush at the jagged edge of skin along his jaw line. "Still, if he suspected before--"
"You'd rather he scared you half to death with this theory when you were eight instead of knowing for sure?" Harry asked. "I don't think that would have gone over well."

"You're right," Neville said. "Gran would have had a fit. After everything you've told me, it still feels like he could have told me something a lot sooner. Look what his silence almost did to you in your years at school."

Harry leaned back in his chair. He'd thought about that a lot over the past few weeks. He'd been blaming Dumbledore for most of what had happened, when this version of him wasn't really at fault. He wished he'd gotten the chance to talk to his former Headmaster before he'd time traveled. At least then he would know why he'd held so much back, especially his fifth year--when it was long past time for Harry to have answers.

"I don't want you to think I'm defending him," Harry began. "My past is different from yours. He definitely should have told me more than what he did. I grew up away from the Wizarding world and I was getting attacked at school from my first year. He should have said something, even if it wasn't everything.. With you...he had no way of knowing any of this would happen. I expect he thought it would be easier not to tell you any details of what happened to your parents if nothing was going to come of it in the future."

Neville shrugged. "That sounds close to what he said to me after the funeral. He didn't want to worry me over something that might not have an affect on my life. But how can he say that if he really believes in this prophecy? Isn't that proof that You-Know-Who is going to come back until I can do something about him?" He shook his head and his eyes drifted to the floor between his feet. "I'm scared," Neville said softly.

"We're both scared."

"You're scared?" Neville asked, looking up. "I would think you'd be fine after everything you've seen and done."

"I'm scared because of everything I've seen," Harry responded. "Knowing how bad it could get from experience doesn't make it any easier to deal with." He glanced towards the lifeless fireplace before turning back to Neville. "I know we talked about this, but I think I should show you some of my memories. Especially the one from the end of fourth year."

"When Cedric was killed."

Harry nodded. "You need to see what he was like. I know Dumbledore says he's not at full physical strength now, but I'm not sure that will make a difference. For that matter, neither is the Minister."

"That's what worries me," Neville said. "For all his planning and secrets, he hasn't got a much better idea of what he's doing than we do."

Harry laughed shortly. "Yeah, I tried to tell Hermione that for weeks. Sometimes, I still think she's convinced that he has some grand scheme that will save us."

"Do you think he will?" Neville asked. "Save us?"

"We have to do this ourselves," Harry responded. "I think the most he can do is not get in our way. Hopefully, what he's done so far won't prevent us from winning."

Before Neville could respond to that, there was a burst of light and a whirring sound from the fireplace. Bright green flames appeared seconds before the Minister of Magic stepped through them. Quickly, he cleaned the ash from his robes before walking to where the boys sat and conjuring a chair to face them.

"Thank you for consenting to a private conversation," Dumbledore said as he sat. His eyes drifted back and forth between Harry and Neville. "I understand your need to have those you trust around at all times, but you may both find it beneficial to have an unemotional discussion of the bare facts and your current options."

"Ten more people died yesterday," Harry said in a dry tone. "I'd say we have a little more to discuss than bare facts."

"We are doing the best we can," Dumbledore said. "The Auror Office is swamped with owls every time there's an attack and a number of them have been false alarms. Hit Wizards managed to capture three Death Eaters yesterday. Bellatrix Lestrange remains in hiding, probably with Voldemort. But, that is not why I wished to speak with you today."

"You have the results," Neville asked.

"I'm afraid what I have to say is a bit more complicated than merely having medical answers for you," Dumbledore said. He leaned forward and took in both boys with a steady gaze. "There are no easy conclusions to this situation, but I suspect you both have known that for quite some time."

Harry frowned, remembering his hastily given promises to Hermione to try to control his temper and mouth around the Minister, in spite of how he felt. If this was another speech about how fate would lead them down the right path or some other rubbish, he wasn't going to yell anymore, he was simply going to walk out. If Neville wanted to be led to his death with no practical help, that was his business.

"The results have confirmed that the portions of Voldemort's soul you are harboring are dormant," Dumbledore said. "Regardless, as Harry experienced numerous times in his past, it is possible for them to affect both of you in terms of nightmares, visions of whatever Voldemort is seeing at the time, and perhaps enhancing your own magical abilities. What we do not know is whether Voldemort can use his connection to hurt you in any way. As he is unaware of the connection, that is a possibility we can only hope never occurs to him or anyone who works for him. Even if he is made aware of it, his soul was so unstable at the time your parents were hurt," he said looking back and forth between the boys, "it is possible that any connection he has is tenuous at best. That would explain why you were only able to experience his emotions when he was highly upset--when his feelings were out of control," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry.

"But he was able to send me visions towards the end," Harry said. "He was aware of it then and he used it."

"Yes, he used it to make you think you were seeing something that had not happened," Dumbledore confirmed. "The important thing to note is that he did not use it to control you physically. It is quite possible he will be unable to do so with both of you, especially given his current condition." Dumbledore sighed. "It is unfortunate that I cannot speak in more absolute terms with both of you, but as the use of Horcruxes is very rare magic and using a living object to house a portion of one's soul is almost unheard of--"

"If it's that rare, how would he even have learned how to do it?" Neville asked. He glanced at Harry. "You started to explain it to Harry before, but I can't see how he'd even get the idea to do something like that."

Dumbledore flushed and leaned back in his chair. "I don't think we should talk about that."

"It was a professor, wasn't it?" Harry asked, remembering that portion of their second conversation in the hospital. "Was it you?" His voice was quiet, but the accusatory note was unmistakable.

The Minister looked away briefly before answering. "I regret telling you it was a professor at this school. You both must understand, he was a very charming young man when he attended Hogwarts. It would never have occurred to any professor at this school that he would ever attempt to make a Horcrux, or that he would even be capable of the evil acts required to make one."
"Which one of them was it?" Neville asked.

"Someone who's still here?" Harry asked a second later.

Dumbledore nodded. "Professor Slughorn had no idea what he was doing at the time. I'm sure if he'd known what he could be aiding--"

"That man who keeps trying to get me into his office for tea?" Harry asked. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak in a calmer voice. "He told a student about something that horrible and he wasn't immediately fired?"

"No one knew what he'd done," Dumbledore said. "Even if Professor Dippet had known of their discussion, it is doubtful it would have led to his dismissal. As I said, no one would have believed Tom Riddle capable of such violent acts. I have viewed Professor Slughorn's memory of that day and he only gave Voldemort the most basic information about a Horcrux's use, little more than he might have found in a book in the school's library before they were removed. He did not give him instructions on how to make one. He also advised him against pursuing the subject further, though in a rather roundabout way," Dumbledore added with a frown.

"I don't blame Professor Slughorn for what has happened in the years since that conversation and neither should you. Tom Riddle was a very determined young man and making himself immortal was only one of his goals, for which he misused the trust of a great number of people before becoming the monster he is now. If Professor Slughorn can be faulted for anything, it is not discussing the matter with the Headmaster then." Dumbledore shifted in his chair. "He had an unfortunate habit of taking a shine to some of the brightest and most well-connected students, as you have now discovered," he said, nodding in Harry's direction. "Unfortunately, once they were in Slughorn's favor, he found it difficult to be objective about them. It never occurred to him to find the questions about Horcruxes suspicious."

"He's not secretly a Death Eater too, is he?" Neville asked.

"No," Dumbledore responded quickly. "As foolish as it may have been to give that kind of information to a student, Professor Slughorn is not in the least bit dangerous. He has never been known to support Voldemort in any of his actions since leaving school and I believe he would openly condemn him now if the current situation becomes like the first war."

"Is that what you think will happen?" Harry asked. "We're heading into a war."

"It is highly doubtful," Dumbledore said. "As I've said, a number of his supporters have been arrested recently and he is not available to lead the rest of them. With Bellatrix Lestrange acting as their leader--as she must since her nephew tells us she is forced to take care of Voldemort daily--I doubt they will be the organized force of destruction they once were, when their numbers were in the dozens. Unless something changes drastically, you can expect your life here at school to remain as normal, and danger to the Wizarding and Muggle worlds will be drastically reduced as more Death Eaters are captured."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together on his lap. "Before we can discuss anything else, I must tell you how I believe you can defeat Voldemort for good."