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Harry Potter and the Black King	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10586 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all characters and situations are created and owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter Fourteen: The Third Horcrux

Draco thought it was typical that it was the Muggle-born Gryffindor rather than the pure-blood Serpent who had discovered the birthplace of the founder of Slytherin house. He would never admit it to anyone other than himself, of course, but he was rather impressed. Harry had, of course, been completely right when he said they needed Hermione; within three weeks of Granger moving in they had a massive lead, one they probably wouldn’t have even had a sniff at without her. The Runes in the tome had been incredibly old and complex; Draco himself had only managed to narrow the area to Cambridgeshire rather than the other counties but Hermione Granger had discovered the location. So it was three days after the trip to Godric’s Hollow that found him, Harry, Hermione, and Ron huddled around a large table in the study, surrounded by literature on Ely, looking for possible Horcrux locations, whilst Remus and Snape were in the city itself trying to detect any traces of known magic that couldn’t be attributed to the magical population who resided there.

“What I don’t get,” Harry said, putting down the book he was reading and rubbing his eyes under his glasses after many minutes of silent study, “is how Voldemort found Slytherin’s birthplace in the first place, if it’s only ever been printed in some ancient text that only a pure-blooded Slytherin can access.”

Draco gave him a very patronising look. “Could it possibly be because Voldemort is a pure-blooded Slytherin?” he said cockily. Ron and Hermione snorted and Harry’s eyebrows shot almost into his hairline.

“You mean you didn’t… you think… and he never told… I shouldn’t be surprised, of course he bloody didn’t. Draco, Voldemort is half-blood. His father was a Muggle.”

Draco started at Harry’s face, trying to detect a hint of a smile, or a mischievous glint in his eyes that would show Harry was joking, but found nothing.

“You’re shitting me, right?” he said eventually. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Why yes dear, I am, because you know I have such a sense of humour when it comes to the Dark Lord, don’t I?”

Draco just stared at Harry. He’s telling the fucking truth. This is just brilliant. Oh, my father will be SO delighted when he finds out he’s been bowing to a half-blood…

“Voldemort’s birth name is Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry explained. “Now Draco, you’re clever. It’s an anagram. Can you solve it?”

“I am Lord Voldemort,” Draco whispered quietly after a couple of minutes. “Fuck. But how does this prove he’s a half-blood?”

“Tom Riddle Senior was his father,” Harry continued. “He was a Muggle. Voldemort’s mother, Merope, used Armortentia to seduce him then eventually marry him. He either became immune to the potions, or she stopped using them, because either way the effects wore off and he left her, pregnant with Voldemort. Then Merope died giving birth to him and Voldemort was left in the Muggle orphanage in which he was born, not knowing anything about his background in the slightest. When he arrived at Hogwarts he tried to find evidence of his father but there was nothing, and Voldemort realised he must’ve been a Muggle. Do you know Voldemort murdered him? And his own grandparents? He was still in Hogwarts at the time.”

Draco had listened raptly to Harry’s story. It was absurd, yet, it somehow made far too much sense.

“That is why he hates Muggles,” Harry continued. “Not just because he thinks they’re inferior or whatever, but because of a personal vendetta against them. Because of what his father did to him. He’s completely and utterly fucking insane.”

“I suppose Dumbledore told you all this,” Draco said. “Could this area not be the location of the remaining Horcrux? Why haven’t we been to search? The death of the father he loathed would be significant enough, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re right, it definitely would be, and it was the location for one, but it Dumbledore already found the Horcrux there two summers ago, just before our sixth year started. Marvolo was Voldemort’s grandfather’s name, from the now-extinct Gaunt family, and it was only his middle name that allowed Dumbledore to trace his relatives. They descended from Slytherin himself, and it is those genetics that give Voldemort the parseltongue gene. The Horcrux that cursed Dumbledore was the Gaunt ring. Voldemort framed his uncle, Morfin, for the murder of his father and grandparents then stole the ring. Morfin even confessed and was sentenced Azkaban for it. He died there, believing he was the murderer, whilst Dumbledore fought to get him released.”

Draco was stunned; Ely momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in Harry’s tale.

“So you can see why I’m surprised he knew the location. He wouldn’t ask the other Death Eaters, as that would be admitting he couldn’t access the book himself and effectively admitting he’s not a pure-blood, so how did he get the information?” Harry was genuinely puzzled by this.

Surprisingly, at least for Draco anyway, it was Ron who offered the plausible solution.

“Malfoy said he was surprised there wasn’t a copy in the Black library. We know Sirius’ brother was a Death Eater- what if Voldemort made up some story about having lost his own copy or something and Regulus stole the Black copy and gave it to him? Voldemort could easily cast Geminio like Malfoy did to make a copy he could access, or he could have made up a reason why he couldn’t read the text himself. Who knows, it might even be why Regulus became suspicious about the Horcruxes in the first place.” This was met with general astonishment from the other three. “What? I’m not completely thick you know!”

The conversation drifted back to Ely, and eventually died down altogether as the foursome sank back into their research.

“He wouldn’t have hidden it actually in the water would he? I mean, we’re not going to have to drain what remains of the fucking fenland, are we?” Draco said eventually. “A few charms could do it, but we’ll have a hell of a time hiding that from the Muggles, and the searching through thick mud would take days.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Harry said. Personally he didn’t think Voldemort would bury one of his precious Horcruxes randomly in marshy water, but he wouldn’t put it past the snake-faced freak.

“What about Ely Cathedral?” Hermione suggested. “It says in this Muggle guide book that Saint Etheldreda was born in Suffolk but died actually in Ely, and that there is a statue of her inside the church. Saint Etheldreda was the patron saint of throat complaints of all things, and was born to King Anna of East Anglia. She did a lot of good in the Muggle world and there’s even a church named after her here in London.”

“Okay…” said Harry skeptically. “But what has she got to do with Slytherin?”

“Nothing definite that I can find,” Hermione replied, and smiled at the three confused faces looking at her. “But I have found references in A History of Magic here to an Æthelthryth, who died in June 679 which is the same month and year Saint Etheldreda died. Look at their names! I’m sure this is the same person. And if they are, that means-”

“That this Saint Whatshername was a witch,” Draco finished. He was beginning to get excited. “And this information wasn’t exactly hard to get hold of- some of it is in a Hogwarts text book for fuck’s sake. Voldemort could easily have deciphered this.”

“So, what are we thinking?” Harry said, cautiously optimistic. “Voldemort has placed the cup inside this statue at Ely Cathedral? Because he was honouring a famous witch who died at Slytherin’s birthplace? Well, it makes about as much sense as anything he does I guess.”

“I’m sure he’d have preferred Slytherin’s actual birthplace, but that would have been eradicated centuries ago,” Hermione replied. “Don’t forget, this was all well over a thousand years ago.”

“My girlfriend is a genius,” Ron smiled proudly, and leant over to kiss her. Draco made fake vomiting actions away from their line of vision, and Harry smacked him on the arm, amused.

“She really is. I’m so glad you’re both here. And not just because we’ve got a lead,” Harry replied, receiving a massive smile of comradeship from the other two in return.

The foursome were busy making plans when Snape and Remus returned home. Remus gave them all a quick greeting before going upstairs to see Tonks, who had not been feeling well that morning.

“We’ve had a degree of success,” Snape informed them all once Remus had left. “Lupin and I have explored the area as thoroughly as is possible during daylight hours in a heavily Muggle-populated area, but we both conclude that there is definite traces of Dark Magic at the-”

“-It’s at the cathedral isn’t it?” Harry interjected, unable to contain his excitement. “Please say it is!”

Snape looked surprised. “Actually Harry, that is exactly where we detected it.” Harry let out a ‘Whoop!’ and Ron punched the air at this news. “I presume, then, that your afternoon researching has proven fruitful?”

“It was Hermione, of course. It’s always Hermione,” Harry said, his pride in his best friend evident to all whilst Hermione blushed profusely, trying to hide how much the compliment meant to her. He then explained what Hermione had discovered. Her theory, combined with Snape and Remus’ discovery was enough evidence for them to agree that a nocturnal trip to the cathedral was definitely in order, and, thanks to Hermione, they would know exactly where to look. Harry had expressed his concern about causing so much damage to the church, but he knew it was inevitable. Besides, they may be able to repair the majority of the damage, Ron had argued reasonably.

Since no one could come up with a better plan than ‘go to Ely Cathedral and don’t get seen by the Muggles whilst desecrating their church,’ it was decided they may as well go as soon as possible, rather than waste time on a plan which probably wouldn’t even pan out anyway. Harry was as close to positive as he could be that they were looking for the cup, but other than that it was impossible to guess what jinxes and curses they would face, and Ron’s advice of ‘making it up as we go along’ was about the best tactic they had. Draco did suggest however they wait until the recent snowfall melted as it would be one less job for them if they didn’t have to remove suspicious-looking footprints leading to the cathedral entrance at two in the morning.

It was, of course, essential for them to go at night; there was a much lower chance of any Muggle witnesses, and the cathedral would be closed to visitors. The trip was, therefore, planned for the early hours of twenty-fourth of January, weather permitting.

At precisely five minutes to two in the morning on the twenty-fourth, Snape made a quick apparition to Ely to make sure the snow had left that area as well, and returned happy to confirm it had. The group performed Disillusionment Charms upon themselves and exited Grimmauld Place, apparating away.

They all arrived in the grounds of Ely Cathedral; Snape’s apparition co-ordinates were perfect. Harry had never had an appreciation or understanding of Arithmancy before but now he did- Snape had spent a large portion of the previous afternoon ensuring that his co-ordinates were perfect.

Still under the Disillusionment Spells, the six-strong group walked as silently as they could up the long and narrow path, avoiding the icy patches that the recently melted snow had left behind. Snape withdrew his wand and performed the unlocking charm on the huge doors, which unlocked with a huge ‘clunk’.

Despite the Muggle trainers they were all wearing for this very reason, the soles of the shoes still echoed around the otherwise silent church, forcing Remus to cast a complex portable Silencing Charm around the group. Harry looked around the church. He hadn’t been to many. Occasionally when he was in primary school he had visited, usually for carols at Christmas or a service at Easter, but other than that he’d never really been inside one. The Dursleys had certainly never taken him. The inside was actually quite beautiful; he looked down the large aisle and saw the High Alter, which was so ornate in gold and jewels that it reminded him of Ravenclaw’s diadem. Even at just past two in the morning the candles were lit, giving an eerie glow to the otherwise dark cathedral. He felt a tug on his arm and the voice that spoke identified it came from Draco.

“Harry,” the voice said in a hushed whisper. “What’s a raf?”

“Come again?” Harry replied. Draco led him by the hand to a beautiful stained-glass window and Harry smiled.

“Draco, it’s not a raf. It’s the RAF, as in Royal Air Force. It’s a branch of Muggle defence where pilots fly aeroplanes to fight enemies. Remember that war I told you about? With Hitler? The RAF did a magnificent job in protecting British shores from invasion. Cambridgeshire has a huge RAF base, so I guess this is just a way of remembering all those who fought- and died- to keep Muggle Britain a free country.” Harry mentally made a vow then and there to give Draco an education in Muggle history as soon as his own war with Voldemort was finally over.

After another twenty minutes of searching, it was, predictably, Hermione who found the Statue of Saint Etheldreda. Snape cast large privacy bubble around it and them all, as well as Muggle-repelling charms, and made to remove his Disillusionment charm, when something back caught Harry’s eye.

“Wait!” he said, a little too loudly, and he felt the others jump. “Sorry. It’s just there’s a CCTV camera about a metre above the head of this statue.”

“What’s CCTV?” Remus asked. Thankfully Hermione took charge then, explaining to the others about Muggle video cameras and security. Whilst she was doing this Harry aimed a particularly well-placed Obscuro around the lens of the camera, and proceeded to cast Muffliato to make sure no sound would reach the microphone, as the damned thing was inside their Silencing ward.

“Okay. Are you all ready?” Harry asked, once the Disillusionment Charms had been removed from everyone. He pointed his wand at the statue and, sending a silent apology to Saint Etheldreda, the Bishop of Ely, and anyone else who would think this was tantamount to Blasphemy, uttered a confident Diffindo, aimed straight at the centre of the stone.

Nothing happened. The curse didn’t even leave his wand and the white marble of Etheldreda’s statue remained as intact as it ever was. Harry stared at the statue, confused, and tried a Reduco. When this, and indeed a Confringo Charm also failed to have any effect, Harry began to panic. He was aware of the others all trying too, attempting anything from Levitating the statue (Hermione) to a combined Blasting Curse (Severus and Remus).

“The bastard has warded the statue with Charms,” Draco concluded angrily, and Harry felt an uncomfortable sensation, like rocks falling, in his stomach. “Like in Hogwarts, with the anti-Apparition wards. Except this is immune to all magic, not just one or two spells.”

After twenty minutes of trying to determine the ward in order to break it, the six had to admit that the statue wasn’t going anywhere. Frustration and bitter disappointment burned inside Harry. They had come this far, were almost within touching distance of another Horcrux, and were going to be foiled at the last hurdle.

Unless…

Harry smiled to himself and, praying to every deity who may currently be watching their plight that this would work, raised his wand one more time.

“Diffindo!” he commanded once more. However he did not cast the spell in Latin; Harry spoke the incantation aloud in Parseltongue. Everyone looked on, amazed, as the spell successfully hit, instantly creating a deep crevice in the statue.

The fact that the sound of the marble shattering was contained within the small protective ward Remus had created meant the sound thundered through their ears. It sounded like an explosion, and the six all instinctively shielded their faces, although not a single chip of stone had, yet, been broken off. There was, however, a very large crack right down the centre. Harry was half amused to realise the line ran right between Etheldreda’s eyes. When the statue fractured, Voldemort’s charm broke; Remus and Severus both used a Levitating Charm apiece and lifted the two halves of the heavy slab of marble away, revealing a large hole where the statue had stood, and, yes of course, Harry thought wryly, a spiral staircase leading into a pitch-black unknown.

“I shall enter first, I think,” Snape said as he increased the light on his wand to Maxima and aimed it as the void. The wand-light revealed an oubliette-like pit at the bottom of the staircase, and seemed to be about thirty stairs down. Snape began his descent, followed by Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron, with Remus bringing up the rear.

The oubliette was small enough to become well-lit with the light from six wands. It did not take Harry long to notice Hufflepuff’s Cup; it sat atop a stone pillar, apparently unprotected, but Harry wasn’t naïve enough to believe Voldemort had left it that vulnerable. He noticed a slight prickle in his scar as he approached the Horcrux but pushed it away. Looking at the others one more time, Harry cautiously reached out a hand and circled his fingers around the cool metal of the cup.

Instantly a fog clouded his brain, and he immediately dropped the cup back on to its podium. All his senses were dulled; he was aware only of the thickening greyish haze overcoming his brain. He vaguely heard a voice- Snape, or Snake, something like that, a small part of Harry’s mind thought the man might be called, saying words such as ‘Imperius Curse,’ ‘Occlumency,’ and ‘fight it,’ to him. The man then repeated a name over and over again. Voldemort. The name sounded familiar to Harry, but at the moment he couldn’t place it.

An annoying blond man, about his age, was saying words Harry couldn’t make out properly. He was gesturing with his hands and indicating the… cup, was it? Harry thought the man wanted him to pick it back up. But why? What did Harry want with an old cup that looked like some gaudy artefact usually found in a bric-a-brac shop?

The only female amongst them had her wand drawn, and pointing it at the cup, apparently trying to Summon or Levitate it whilst the others continued to talk to him in words he couldn’t hear properly. Harry wished they’d all stop; in reply to the woman’s attempt to steal the cup, he drew his own wand and sent a Stinging Jinx at her, making her yelp and clutch her face, which began to rapidly swell. The redhead who tried to take his wand away was next; a swift Stunning Spell and the man was out cold. He turned his wand on one of the older men and was just about to cast a Hex on him too when he heard a voice, possibly from Blondie, call out, “Legilimens!”

Harry, fight this! The voice in his head was not his, but there was something comfortingly familiar and… wonderful about it, but Harry didn’t know what. You can fight off the Imperius Curse, you can beat this too! Come on, Damn it!

But why? Why fight it? Because that cup is needed to Defeat Voldemort! Harry!

“Draco?” Harry whispered aloud. That was who the blond was. Draco. He remembered now. The fog tried to entwine itself further into Harry’s mind. It wanted to claim him, consume him. The sense of freedom and carefree was almost overwhelmingly satisfying. Why shouldn’t he let it win?

Because I love you! And because Voldemort cannot be victorious! And he will if you don’t snap out of this right fucking now!

The man’s voice was persistent. This Draco person loved him? Harry remembered now, vaguely, fighting a fog similar to this before, although this one was a lot stronger. He remembered being put under the curse by this Voldemort person. Harry didn’t like Voldemort, he remembered now. And that had tried to take away his free will. He hated it when people did that. He had had to throw the previous curse off.

If you don’t like it then stop this! That’s what this fog is doing too! Throw this off as well!

The fog began to protest whilst it tried to secure its roots further, but Harry had had enough. He wanted self-control back. There was a reason why he’d wanted that cup in the first place. He needed to know why it was so important. With a huge effort of will, Harry forced up his Occlumency shields, halting the mental attack, but not enough to break it completely.

Come on Harry! That’s it love! Throw it off! And with that, Draco pushed.

Memories that Harry shared with Draco flooded his mind. Their first kiss, the way Harry had made the blond feel. The times they had laughed together, or exchanged playful banter. The times they had made gentle love and the times they had simply fucked each other. The times they told the other how much they loved them.

The memories snapped the final strand of control the fog held over Harry. He was Harry Potter, and he was going to return to his own mind. The Curse made one final effort to surge deeper into Harry’s mind, but Harry, with the encouragement from Draco, was stronger.

“NO!”

Harry felt physically weak from exertion as fought the spell and he cried out. He felt Draco’s presence leave him as quickly as it had arrived as he shattered Voldemort’s curse at last with Occlumency, forcing both it and his boyfriend from his mind. His head exploded in pain as he came back to himself but he ignored it. Harry quickly reached out with his hand, grabbed the cup, then promptly collapsed on all fours, exhausted.

“I’ve got it,” he said faintly, just before everything swam out of focus. His arms supporting his body buckled and he fell flat to the ground; another couple of seconds and the world went black.

When he awoke, Harry was amazed to find himself in his own bed in Grimmauld Place, and it was daylight outside. He tried to sit up in bed but was hit by a jolt of pain surging through his head.

“Ow,” he said lamely, as someone- Draco, Harry thought- handed Harry his glasses.

“Here Harry, drink this,” Snape said, offering Harry a small glass vial. “It’s for your head.”

Harry gratefully downed the Headache Potion and the relief was instantaneous. He realised as he slipped his glasses onto his face that everyone- except Tonks- was crowded around his bedside and he suddenly felt very foolish indeed.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“A little after eleven. You’ve been asleep five hours,” Remus replied. That confused Harry.

“But we arrived at the cathedral nine hours ago! It didn’t take us… hang on, are you saying I was under that curse for longer than I thought?”

Ron gave a small laugh. “How long did you think you were under it for? Harry mate, it was getting on for three hours. We were getting desperate; we thought you weren’t going to be able to shift it.”

“Three hours?” Harry replied, astounded. “It only felt like a few minutes.” He gave Draco a smile and reached out for his hand, then, turning to see Hermione, he gasped when he saw an angry red mark on her swollen cheek. “Oh fuck, ‘Mione, your face- I’m so-”

“Don’t apologise Harry!” Hermione cut in. “It was the curse, I know that. It wasn’t you. And the same goes for the Stunner you sent at Ron. We know you weren’t in your right mind.” Harry sent them both a grateful smile, even though he still felt guilty. He had never wanted to hurt his friends.

“That curse was especially nasty,” Snape said. “I’ve never encountered anything like that before. I believe it was sentient, which made it all the more difficult to beat. It was a lot harder to overcome than even the Imperius Curse, and I am not certain anyone else could have broken it. It was only your fiercely-strong independent mind, combined with Draco’s Legilimency skills which helped you regain some sense of self-identity, that saved you.”

Harry increased the pressure on Draco’s hand. “I didn’t know if I had imagined that,” he said hoarsely. “Draco, your voice, your encouragement and love- it’s the only reason I found the strength to fight it.” Draco gave a slightly smug smile.

“I told you before. I won’t let him have you.” Harry beamed at his boyfriend and shifted across the bed, indicating for Draco to lie next to him.

“Draco was magnificent,” Hermione said, to general surprise. “He practically jumped in your mind to talk to you. But Harry! Your Occlumency must have become incredibly strong to break such a heinous curse. You did so well.”

“The cup!” Harry said suddenly. What happened to it?”

“Severus and I destroyed it about an hour ago,” Remus replied. “We believe you broke that curse on it fully, but as it was such a powerful spell we couldn’t take any chances so we destroyed it as soon as we could. The basilisk venom has put it beyond magical repair and the Horcrux contained in it is destroyed.”

Harry shut his eyes and breathed deeply. There were only two more to go, then he could go after Voldemort himself. The thought should have been terrifying, but Harry was just overwhelmingly relieved that, one way or another, it was nearly over.

“I’m surprised that he didn’t hide Slytherin’s locket at his birthplace,” Ron said. “I mean, it would have made sense to have all of his links to Slytherin together, wouldn’t it?”

Harry shook his head.

“No. That locket was probably the artefact he treasured most of all, a former possession of whom Voldemort considered to be the ‘greatest of the Hogwarts four.’ When Riddle was taken to the seaside as a child, he discovered the cave the locket was originally hidden in, and tortured two Muggle orphans there. It was the first time he exercised a wizard’s power over Muggles. The first place he terrorised them, tortured them, and put them in their ‘rightful place.’” Harry made air quotes with his fingers at this and made a disgusted face. “I think he would have considered that cave to be the most worthy home for his favourite Horcrux. The place where he discovered a so-called ‘Wizard’s superiority.’ That cave represented power and control, two Slytherin traits Voldemort prizes, and that he would have considered an incredibly fitting location of Slytherin’s locket.”

He finished his mini-lecture and flushed when he realised everyone was gaping at him in silence. He didn’t know whether to feel amused or irritated.

“What?”

“You really do understand him, don’t you mate?” Ron said. Harry smiled and gave a small nod.

“Dumbledore got a lot wrong. But the one thing he did do right last year was show me the workings of Riddle’s mind. I think that, unfortunately, I understand the bastard quite well, yes.”

Harry was still exhausted from the events that had taken place at Ely Cathedral and found his eyelids drooping whilst the others continued to talk. Yawning, he tried to participate in the conversation the best he could, but it was no good. He needed to sleep. He closed his eyes and curled further into Draco’s arms, head on the blond’s chest. He felt Draco remove his glasses from his face before giving him a quick peck on the forehead, then slipped back welcomingly into oblivion once more.

When Harry awoke again, it was beginning to become dark. His bedroom was filled with a soft ochre light, shining in through the window as the sun began to lower in the sky, beginning its descent into nightfall. He was cold, and realised that he was alone. He also desperately needed to pee. He grabbed his wand and cast a Tempus Charm, revealing it was just after four in the afternoon, before crossing his bedroom and walking into the hall, heading for the toilet.

After he was done in the bathroom he was about to go downstairs but saw Snape appear, who gestured to him to return to his room. Harry turned direction and followed his former professor, suspecting what this was about.

Harry re-entered his bedroom and closed the door.

“Are you well-rested and refreshed, Harry?” Snape asked. Harry confirmed he was.

“Where are the others?” he enquired, sensing that Snape had wanted to talk to him alone.

“Lupin is with Tonks at her parents’ house. Miss Granger is in the library, and I do believe Mr. Weasley and Draco are currently locked in a battle of wills over a game of Wizards’ Chess.” Snape’s lip curled. “Apparently, Harry, Mr. Weasley’s animosity towards Draco has softened somewhat since Draco’s involvement in rescuing you from the metaphorical abyss. Draco informed him that seeing him Stupefied by you would have been one of the greatest moments in his life, had he not been so worried about you, to which Mr. Weasley called him a ‘ferret bastard’. He then offered him a handshake, and challenged Draco to a game. He also said that it was nice to finally play someone who had, and I quote, ‘more than a snowball’s chance in Hades’ at beating him.”

Harry chuckled to himself. Ron and Draco were still a long way from being friends, but at least they could act friendly now. In a backwards sort of way.

“I wanted to discuss purging the fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul from your mind,” Snape continued, and Harry knew he’d guessed right. “And I thought it best to discuss this away from Draco. He has a tendency to react poorly when this topic is discussed. I have the Potion ready, under a Stasis Charm. Just say the word and we’ll proceed with our plans.”

“Not yet. I mean, I need to see Nagini taken care of first,” Harry replied. “Please Severus, I have to hold on to the Parseltongue. If we’re right I’m going to lose it once that- thing- is out of me. It’s been crucial so far. We’d have gotten nowhere without it; we cannot risk it.”

Snape thought for a long moment.

“As you wish Harry,” he said kindly. “Although Nagini, as we know, is not protected with wards or enchantments. But if it makes you feel more confident then we shall attack the Dark Lord’s snake before going for the piece that resides within you. Harry, do you have any plans on how to vanquish Nagini at all?”

Yes, Harry wanted to say. In fact he had thought of something weeks ago, long before Christmas. But it was too horrible to even contemplate fully at the moment, much less discuss as a probable plan of action. Unless it came down to being the only viable option, he was keeping his idea firmly to himself for the time being. He just hoped something else would turn up. Soon.

“Not yet. Not really,” Harry replied vaguely, hoping Snape wouldn’t see through the lie. “I mean, I’ve had a few ideas and stuff, but nothing that would actually work.” Snape nodded his head but said nothing. He stood from the end of the bed he had perched on and turned to leave.

“Are you coming, Harry?” he asked. Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t want to watch Draco and Ron fighting over chess. Can you please tell them I’m awake though and come up when they’re done? I think I’ll read for a bit.”

Snape got as far as Harry’s bedside table before he stopped dead, turning his nose and gave several short, sharp intakes of breath though it as if trying to detect the faint traces of a scent. Harry watched, curious, as the little colour that was in the man’s face drained. He walked over to the top of the table and picked up the small glass bottle that was sitting atop of it, picking it up and drawing it up to his nose, where he inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering closed. He let out a deep breath and, Harry noticed, bit hard on a slightly trembling lower lip.

“Where did you get this?” Severus asked hoarsely. He had still not opened his eyes.

“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry replied, more confused than ever. What was Snape doing?

“Lily,” was all the older man said, in a tone barely audible, before replacing the bottle on the nightstand with an unsteady hand and leaving the room without so much as a backwards glance. Harry stared at the door for a while, wondering what that had all been about and thinking it was exceptionally odd behaviour. But Harry was determined to find out what, exactly, had just happened.

A/N: ‘Greatest of the Hogwarts four’ is a quote from Chamber of Secrets. It’s not my line.
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Harry Potter and the Black King