Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Damaged Bridges	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 46870 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to Rowling and Warner Bros, nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Magick Moste Evile

Harry glanced at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace, grateful for the warmth of the orange flames crackling in the hearth and the steaming mug of cocoa which Hermione had just passed him. It was getting on for ten thirty p.m., and he still felt very unsettled after viewing the second memory - Slughorn’s memory - with Hermione and Dumbledore.
It wasn’t the memory itself which had been so unnerving, but the conversation which had followed. Finally, Harry knew the precise nature of the connection between himself and Voldemort, and in a sense, he felt that on some level he had always known - at least he had since the end of first year and pieced together for himself that he and Voldemort were connected in some way.
Harry wished that Dumbledore had told him everything from the very beginning - instead of in bits and pieces. If he’d known about the Prophecy - and about what the connection had really meant - Sirius might still be alive.
If only Dumbledore or Snape had told him why he kept seeing the Department of Mysteries in his dreams, and why Voldemort kept feeding them to him, instead of simply telling him to shut up and do Occlumency. Harry would have been perfectly willing to try harder if he’d known that Voldemort was trying to steal the Prophecy - well, with someone other than Snape teaching him, anyway.
Harry couldn’t help feeling another surge of anger, and tried to suppress it; Dumbledore was doing his very best to make up for things now. The headmaster had even offered to begin proper training in Legilimency and Occlumency, pleased that Harry was finally prepared to give it his best effort, and that Hermione had given Harry the best book available to study.
Harry took a sip of his cocoa and absentmindedly stroked Crookshanks, feeling somewhat comforted by the presence of the fat furry beast curled up purring on his lap. He glanced at Hermione and Dora, who were both sipping from their own mugs and watching him intently.
“So,” Dora began tentatively, when it appeared that Harry was ready to tell her a bit more, “Your scar then, does that really mean...?”
“...that I’m a horcrux too?” Harry finished for her. “Yeah... more or less. The scar’s really just a leftover from the Killing Curse when it rebounded from the Protection Charm created by my mum’s...” Harry swallowed, his eyes stinging. “...my mum’s sacrifice...”
Harry fell silent again and Hermione bit her lip, tearing up again as she watched the emotions which Harry was trying to contain flicker across his features.
Hermione had already unleashed her tears in Dumbledore’s office when that bit had come up. She had known a bit about the circumstances of course, but Harry had never really talked about what he could remember of that night before. Hermione placed her hand on the back of Harry’s, the one which was resting on Crookshanks.
Harry gave Hermione a little smile and took a deep breath.
“Anyway,” said Harry, when he felt ready to resume again, “according to Dumbledore, I’m not really a completed horcrux. Voldemort never intended to make me one - it was just a piece of his soul which attached itself to mine when he... when he sort of exploded I guess.
“Dumbledore’s still not really quite sure why that happened. I mean... even a rebounding Killing Curse wouldn’t have caused an explosion like that. So I suppose the scar really is sort of where Voldy’s bit of soul entered my body when he tried to kill me - or where the curse bounced off my skull? I dunno... It’s all a bit confusing still really.
“In any case, it seems that there were more horcruxes besides Voldemort’s diary. The ring - Marvolo Gaunt’s ring - it was a horcrux too. ... Anyway, that’s why Dumbledore needs me to get Professor Slughorn’s real memory, to find out exactly what he told Tom Riddle. We need to try and work out how many horcruxes Voldemort might have made, and what they might be...”
“...and where they might be,” Hermione added.
“Blimey!” Dora muttered, peering at Harry sympathetically. “That’s a real load for anyone to bear, Harry. If there’s anything I can do...”
“It’s got to be me,” Harry sighed. “I’m the only one who really has a chance to get through to Slughorn for some reason. At least Dumbledore seems to think so. I’m not really sure why...”
Except for a few crackles and pops in the fireplace, it was quiet again in the sitting room as Harry, Hermione, and Dora peered at each other in contemplation.
“Maybe... maybe just because Professor Slughorn’s so interested in you Harry,” Hermione proffered. “I remember you telling me that he liked ‘collecting’ important people...”
“Not just important people, apparently,” said Harry. “He really liked my mum too... said she was one of his all time favourite students. At first I thought he was just being prejudiced when he talked about her being a Muggleborn - but he said he didn’t really care about that.
“He said he thought it was interesting that my mum was so spectacular at magic, considering she didn’t have any magical parents. That’s when I told him you were the best in our year, Hermione, and he got really upset that I thought he was prejudiced - told me again how she was one of his all time favourites...”
Hermione’s eyes widened, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Harry... Do you think he might have been, er... a bit fond of her - your mum?”
“What?” Harry made a face, as if he might be sick, “You mean...?”
“No, no! Not like that, Harry!” Hermione said quickly. “I mean just sort of a general affection for her, in a, er... grandfatherly sort of way.”
“Oh!” Harry’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Er... dunno really. I suppose... maybe! He did sort of have that kind of look in his eyes when he talked about her, come to think of it. D’you think that might help me somehow?”
“I’m not sure really, Harry,” Hermione admitted ruefully. “But it’s something to keep in mind while we try to think of ways for you to convince Professor Slughorn to give you the real memory. What do you think, Dora?”
“Makes sense to me, Hermione.” Dora nodded, a little smile hovering at the corner of her lips, and a slightly wistful look in her eye. “Teachers aren’t really supposed to have favourites. But when they do - especially if there’s a bit of real affection there too - it always makes things a bit, er... easier to get what you want outta them.
“Blimey!” Dora chortled, shaking her head and turning a bit pink. “Listen to me... I must sound like a real Slytherin.”
“No more than Hermione in second year,” said Harry, grinning at Hermione pointedly.
“Oh, shut up!” Hermione retorted, turning pink and guiltily remembering how she had exploited Lockhart’s vaguely inappropriate eagerness to win the affections of second year girls in order to check out Moste Potente Potions from the Restricted Section of the library.
At the time, Hermione had been too young and inexperienced, and too caught up in her crush, to ponder Lockhart’s behaviours. But as she had grown older and contemplated the fact that Lockhart had engaged in what could only be considered criminal acts to gather the material for his books and attribute others’ deeds to himself, she had wondered just how far he had taken his talents for charming witches of all ages, and Obliviations.
It had been a bit sad seeing him in St Mungo’s last year, but Hermione couldn’t help thinking that perhaps the witches of the world were a bit safer now.
“Anyway, Harry, Dora’s right,” said Hermione. “Professor Slughorn seems to like you, and he must have really liked your mum. We’ll just have to try and think of a way for you to use that to your advantage.”
Dora nodded. “Yeah, we will! We’ll come up with something. ... And thanks for telling me everything Harry! I sure don’t envy you... It’s bad enough you bein’ ‘The Chosen One’ with a bloody target painted on your back, but it must be really ‘orrible knowing you’ve got a little piece of that bastard in you. We should probably call it a night though and sleep on it. ... Will you be alright? Or do you want me to get you a sleeping draught?”
“No, thanks Dora. I’ll be fine,” said Harry gratefully. “I’ve got Hermione,” he added with a meaningful look which made Hermione blush.
“That you do, Harry. Right then, g’night you two. See you in the morning,” said Dora, smiling and getting up to leave.
But as Hermione changed into her nightie and cleaned her teeth following Dora’s departure, it was obvious to her that Harry was putting a brave face on things. She settled into bed with Harry, sadly noting the distant, brooding look in his eyes. She drew Harry’s attention, stroking his messy fringe with her fingers and planting a tender kiss on his lips, wishing she felt comfortable enough to go further and do something she was almost certain would take his mind off things.
Hermione was heartened to see Harry’s features brighten a bit and his eyes refocusing on her. But it was clear that he was still disturbed about something that he didn’t want to talk about. She had a feeling she knew what was bothering him. It was written all over his face - she’d seen that look before.
“It’ll be alright Harry. You know that I don’t care about you having a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside you, don’t you? We’ll figure out a way to get rid of it eventually.”
Harry swallowed, not sure what to say. He felt torn now, knowing how deeply it would hurt Hermione to pull away, but wanting her to be safe, wanting her to live. He hadn’t quite considered what it meant for them to be boyfriend and girlfriend with Voldemort after him, but finding out that he was a horcrux of sorts had suddenly thrown everything into sharp relief for Harry.
Hermione truly was in danger now - not from Malfoy, who was no longer a threat to her at Hogwarts, but from Voldemort himself.
“Hermione...” he croaked finally.
“Don’t... Don’t push me away, Harry!” Hermione interjected forcefully, unwilling to let the thought she could see forming in his mind set and harden. “You can’t protect me by pushing me away! Even if I didn’t need you as badly as I need you right now, I would never let you face him alone. Never! Do you understand me!
“I love you, and I’m not letting him come between us! I refuse! We’re going to fight him together... You, me, Dumbledore and Dora! ...and the rest of our friends too!
“We’re going to find out if Voldemort made any more bloody horcruxes and... and one day we’re going to end him! Promise me you’ll forget about whatever you’re thinking, right now! ... Promise me, Harry!”
Harry swallowed again, catching the blazing fire and the steely flash of determination in Hermione’s wetly glistening eyes. Her nostrils flared, her chest heaving rapidly with emotion.
Harry’s insides curdled slightly, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop her when she had that look. And even worse, Harry wasn’t sure that he even wanted to stop her; deep inside, he knew that he needed Hermione as badly as she needed him.
“Okay... I’m sorry I even thought about it,” Harry sighed, deflating, blinking his stinging eyes. “I promise, Hermione! I’ll never leave you! I promise! We’re in this together, no matter what happens... I love you too!”
Hermione’s features softened and she flung herself on Harry tearfully, wrapping both arms tightly around him, crushing his lips with her own. Harry curled one arm around Hermione’s waist, his other hand caught in her tangle of hair as he lost himself in her passion.
When their lips damply separated, Hermione lay atop Harry, feeling much calmer while he continued gently stroking her hair.
“Thank you Harry,” Hermione said quietly, sensing Harry’s heart beating beneath her, feeling his warmth next to her own. “Thank you...”

~o0o~
The cold grey light of an early wintry dawn shone through the frosted over windows of one of the parlours in the manor of a Wiltshire estate. A man of pallid features with red eyes and slits for nostrils listened to another whose features were of barely more colour than his own. The red eyed man paid heed with more patience than had been readily available to him nearly forty eight hours prior.
Having raged for nearly two days, his fury had finally abated. He had wanted to torture the man before him and the boy both for their incompetence, but knowing that their future usefulness to him required their continued devotion had stayed his hand. The man with red eyes had unleashed his wrath on a family of muggles instead, leaving them broken in a pool of blood.
And in his hard won patience, the Dark Lord had to give the boy his due; faced with the offer presented by the Old Fool, the boy had stood fast, remaining true to his Master. And Severus had proved his worth yet again, cutting all ties with the Old Fool when the boy’s idiocy had exposed them both, and escaping the formidable Protection Charms which warded Hogwarts in a manner most surprising to the Dark Lord.
Feeling much calmer and more collected, the Dark Lord coldly eyed the ex-Potions professor seated before him, shrewdly contemplating the information which Snape had presented.
“You are certain of this, Severus?” queried the Dark Lord, his tone icy and brittle. “She is one of us then? ...A Dark Witch dedicated to Slytherin’s path?”
“Yes my Lord!” Snape answered confidently. “Dumbledore determined that she was the one who ordered the Dementors to the boy’s home, in an attempt to assassinate him before he could return to Hogwarts. And she also bore responsibility for calling for a full State Trial when the boy repelled them in the presence of muggles with his Patronus. And it has been rumoured that she subjected the boy to torture via bloodletting during her brief reign at Hogwarts.”
The Dark Lord’s red eyes narrowed with interest, his lips curling up slightly at the corners
“And yet she remains as Senior Undersecretary, despite being publicly proved incorrect regarding my return, and the partial exposure of her corruption!” the Dark Lord mused aloud, stroking his chin pensively. “Intriguing!”
“Indeed!” Snape returned coolly, raising his eyebrows. “Dumbledore believes that she may be highly placed in the Operations and Intelligence Division of the Unspeakable Office. That would explain her ability to resist the calls for her immediate dismissal. ... If she were to become an ally, she could prove most useful - far more useful than an operative within the Ministry weak-minded enough to fall to an Imperius Curse.”
“Yes... yes! Quite so Severus. I see your point. She would be well placed to advance our goals within the Ministry without having to risk my own exposure, or the exposure of my other operatives with Ministry ties. And you say that you have some rapport with this... this Dolores Umbridge?”
“I do!” said Snape. “There was some friction between us on her last day as headmistress, but only because she did not take well the fact that she had depleted my stores of Veritaserum. I am certain there was no lasting damage to our relationship.”
“Good... good!” the Dark Lord hissed, his scarlet eyes gleaming brightly. “Very well then, Severus. When the opportunity arises, make your approach. Invite the Dark Witch to join us - and be certain to make clear the benefits that such an alliance can bring her... and to also make clear the price of refusal.”
“My Lord, I shall do as you command,” Snape agreed.
“Very good Severus! Now, send in the boy. I would have words with him, and present him with another opportunity to prove his value to me.”
“Yes, my Lord!” Snape stood up and bowed slightly before stalking from the room.
Moments later a youth with pointy features and light blond hair entered the parlour, pasty-faced and shaking.
“M...Master? You wished to s...see me?” stammered Draco Malfoy.
“Be seated, Draco!”
The Dark Lord gestured towards the opulent emerald sofa from which Snape had so recently departed. Puzzled by the Dark Lord’s attitude of benevolence, Draco nervously sat himself down and fidgeted.
“You have nothing to fear from me Draco... for now,” said the Dark Lord, his smile devoid of warmth as he regarded Draco cannily. “Severus has explained all. I do not hold you responsible for your failure. I had anticipated that you would be unlikely to succeed.”
“S...sir?” Draco was even more bewildered than ever.
“It was a test, Draco - a test of your willingness to go up against your better - a wizard of great power and experience - despite knowing the odds were stacked against you - in your service to me. It was a test of your courage and your loyalty - not your skill, which is as yet that only of the callow youth which you are.
“And your loyalty pleases me, Draco. I do not doubt that one day you shall restore your family’s honour and redeem your father’s disgrace...”
A surge of relief rushed through Draco’s veins, and he sat up a bit straighter, his grey eyes widening.
“Severus tells me that you and Harry Potter are well acquainted with one another,” the Dark Lord continued, “that Potter is your arch-nemesis. Does Severus speak truly?”
“Y...yes sir. He does!” Draco felt a little shiver of eagerness, wondering if the daydream which had eased his departure from Hogwarts was about to be given a chance of coming to pass.
“Very good, Draco!” The Dark Lord chuckled, seeing the excitement in the boy’s eyes. “Very good! I take it you know much about Potter then... how to wound him - how to hurt him. Tell me what you know of him, Draco. Who are his friends? Now that his Godfather is dead, who will he miss the most?”
“Oh! That’s easy,” said Draco. “Weasley and Granger! He’d do anything for them...”
“Ah... yes! Ronald Weasley - the son of a blood-traitor...” The Dark Lord nodded. “He was among those at the Ministry, I believe I was told. And this Granger... also at the Ministry I believe?”
“A Mudblood,” Draco spat derisively. “She’s Potter’s pet Mudblood! ... Weasley’s always been interested in her - has a snit if anyone so much as looks at her - but everyone in school knows it’s going to be Potter and Granger eventually. They’re attached at the hip!”
“So... like his blood-traitor father then, Harry Potter would choose to marry beneath his station?”
“That’s about the size of it! I’m not sure what Potter sees in her though,” Draco snorted, “Probably her brains. She’s pretty smart for a Mudblood I suppose. Potter wouldn’t last two seconds without her.”
“I see,” hissed the Dark Lord, his eyes piercing Draco’s. “You have done well to inform me, Draco. If you continue to please me, you may yet see your desires fulfilled, your enemies prostrate before you in chains...”

~o0o~
Harry woke feeling more at peace and more cheerful than he would have thought possible after the stunning revelations of the night before. His scar wasn’t even burning anymore - just a mild itch if anything.
Of course it was hard to feel miserable with Hermione still entwined around him. She hadn’t stirred once during the night, and Harry wondered if she’d had any more nightmares. He kissed her bushy head.
“Mmm... Morning Harry,” Hermione responded.
“Oh! You’re awake...”
“I woke a little while ago, but I didn’t want to wake you yet. It just felt nice to cuddle you...”
Harry couldn’t help grinning. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he felt it would be inconsiderate not to at least ask.
“So, er... no nightmares last night then?” Harry peered at Hermione hopefully. “I mean - it was the first night you’ve slept all the way through since we left Hogwarts for Christmas.”
Hermione blushed and bit her lip, shyly fluttering her eyelashes, not sure she was ready to reveal the intimate details of her dreams to Harry just yet. It had been over two and a half weeks since that horrible night, and though she had been very hopeful, Hermione was nonetheless surprised at how quickly her “Cuddle-Harry” Therapy was working.
“Well... they weren’t so bad, anyway,” she finally said. “Just fragmented bits and pieces now... and, er... more nice dreams too.”
“That’s great!” said Harry, looking relieved, then his eye caught the clock. “Blimey! It’s almost time for breakfast, Hermione...”
Still red-faced, Hermione let Harry up to make a brief lavatory stop, before they quickly took turns using the bathroom to shower and change. Dora was already outside their door, waiting with her eyebrows raised and a hint of a smirk on her face.
Waving a forkful of fried egg around as he chatted animatedly to Neville, Ron looked up and grunted when Lavender and Parvati both giggled at the late arrival of Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall.
Neville rolled his eyes at Ron. “Ron, can’t you just...”
“No!” Ron grumped, shoving the forkful of fried egg into his mouth and crossly attacking his bacon. Neville sighed and turned his own attention back to his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage.
Potions lessons had been awkward enough during the last weeks leading up to Christmas. Harry wasn’t sure whether he felt more sad or more relieved when Ron picked up his cauldron and retreated to the other side of the table with Ernie MacMillan, as there were no other Gryffindors in the NEWT level Sixth Year Potions class for Ron to hang out with.
Ernie looked a bit surprised, but not at all unhappy. And thankfully for Ron - whose work had been suffering badly in most of his classes without Hermione to help him since the day he had first snogged Lavender - Ernie was extremely eager to share his abundant knowledge.
Slughorn called the class to order and everyone quieted.
“Right then,” said Slughorn, “Golpalott’s Third Law... Now, who can tell me...?” Hermione’s hand shot up, and as everybody else looked slightly befuddled, Slughorn chuckled and gestured towards her, giving Harry a wink. “Mr Potter’s partner in crime, Miss Granger, of course...”
Harry quickly felt lost and began to panic when Hermione launched into a full-speed recitation of Golpalott’s Third Law and Slughorn followed her up with a lecture that appeared to have the rest of the class looking as glassy eyed as Harry. Ron was doodling in his copy of Advanced Potion Making as he hadn’t the foggiest, and Ernie MacMillan was too busy struggling to comprehend Slughorn’s lecture himself.
Hermione nudged Harry out of his stupor when Slughorn finished his lecture.
“Come on Harry,” she said. “Grab a vial of poison. Don’t worry - I’ll help you get through this...”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he returned to the table with Hermione, both of them with vials of poison in their hands.
“Alright, Harry,” said Hermione, in her school-teacher tone of voice, “You may be brilliant at following instructions without someone harassing you, but you really haven’t had a proper opportunity to learn the theory with a decent instructor until now. So just follow my lead, and I’ll explain what we’re doing as we go...”
Harry paid attention to Hermione as best as he could, and was surprised to find how readily he understood as she carefully explained every step of the process. He glanced up from their potions at intervals to see how well everyone else was doing.
Half of the class was gasping or coughing as eggy smelling fumes and smoke billowed out of cauldrons full of potions gone wrong. The rest were struggling, but at least managing to keep up appearances. Ron scowled, crinkling his nose at the ghastly odour coming from his cauldron, barely able to follow a word Ernie was saying, despite Ernie’s patient, but slightly pompous tutoring.
“Don’t worry if you don’t get this one today, Ron,” Ernie said kindly, giving him a pat on the back. “Just stick with me from now on, and I’ll have you up to snuff in no time.”
Harry and Hermione were still stuffing their vials full of ingredients when Slughorn called out, “Time’s... UP!”
Apparently nobody had managed to complete their antidotes in time. Harry just hoped that he hadn’t slowed Hermione down too much as Slughorn drew nearer. Slughorn nodded semi-approvingly at Ernie’s potion, but he grimaced and had a coughing fit when he took a whiff of Ron’s.
Still wheezing, Slughorn finally reached Harry’s and Hermione’s potions.
“Hmmm... Not bad! Not bad at all,” said Slughorn. “Not quite up to your usual speed, Harry, but I daresay that your and Miss Granger’s top-of-the-class reputations are both intact. Well done! Well done indeed!
“And I daresay you and Miss Granger could have both given your mother a run for her money - though I wouldn’t have put it past Lily to pull a bezoar from her pocket when she realised that she didn’t have time to complete the antidote - cheeky little monkey that she was.”
Slughorn chortled at that last bit, a fond, wistful look in his eyes. Hermione beamed at Harry - who looked deeply relieved - and gave him a quick hug.
“Right then class, time to pack up!” Slughorn boomed jovially. “I’ll be wanting a foot of parchment on Golpalott’s Third Law by next lesson from the following students: Ronald Weasley...”
Harry didn’t listen to the names of the other students who were being assigned extra homework, turning to Hermione instead as they both packed up their materials and cleaned up their work-stations.
“Hermione, what d’you think? Slughorn seems pretty happy with us. Should I give it a go then when everyone else has cleared out?”
“Er... I’m not sure Harry,” said Hermione uncertainly. She bit her lip pensively, and Harry could see her gears spinning as she thought about it.
“I don’t really think just asking about horcruxes and Tom Riddle out of the blue will work,” she said after a moment. “Professor Slughorn’s likely to just panic if you do that. He’d probably get irritated and clam up, and you might even put him off you for a bit. And that’s the last thing you want to do.”
“Oh!” said Harry, deflating. “Yeah! I suppose you’re right. I’d probably panic too if someone came at me like that... I just thought - while he’s in a good mood.”
“It’s not a matter of catching him in a good mood,” Hermione continued, her expression still thoughtful. “I think it’ll probably have to be in a serious sort of situation - a proper sit down, and directly appealing to his better nature in some way - be up-front.”
“You mean I’ll more or less just have to tell him the truth - tell him everything? ...about really being the, er... ‘Chosen One?’” said Harry, looking very uncomfortable at the idea of playing on his current reputation in the Wizard World.
“I think so, Harry.” Hermione nodded. “And it looks like he really did seem to like your mother as much as you said he did. You might have to bring her up to remind him what’s at stake.”
“Wait! You mean...?” Harry gulped, looking slightly ill, feeling even worse about the idea of deliberately dredging up what must surely be a horrible memory for Slughorn.
Hermione nodded sympathetically. “And it can’t be in a random moment. You’ll have to approach him when he’s feeling a bit vulnerable, I think. I’m really sorry Harry - I know how awful that sounds.”
Harry groaned. This was getting worse and worse. He tried putting it out of his head for the rest of the day, mentally preparing himself for his and Hermione’s first Legilimency and Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore that evening.
Hermione was also keen on finding out as much about horcruxes as possible, and out of sheer morbid curiosity, Harry followed her to the library after classes. As a Prefect, Hermione had an open pass to the Restricted Section, and she and Harry began rifling through the most likely books, looking for mentions of horcruxes.
The pile of books on the table in the Restricted Section grew higher and higher as they both continued to search, growing more and more frustrated. Hermione came to a halt part-way through the book she was leafing through, Potions for the Discriminating Necromancer; she turned green, looking like she might be violently ill.
“Found something?” asked Harry, his eyebrows perking hopefully.
“No! Just something absolutely revolting!” Hermione replied vehemently, passing him the book.
Harry took one look and clapped a hand to his mouth in shock, shutting the book quickly and setting it down on the table, using every ounce of his willpower not to throw up.
“Blimey!” Harry gasped when his stomach stopped gurgling. “No wonder Dark wizards get on so well with Dementors...”
Finally, after nearly two hours, as dinnertime drew nearer, Hermione found something, a single sentence in the foreword of a book called Magick Moste Evile. She huffed angrily and rolled her eyes, giving the book to Harry so he could see for himself.
“Well, that’s stupid,” Harry muttered, frowning. “I mean, why bloody mention horcruxes at all if you’re not even going to give a brief overview of how they’re done?”
“Exactly!” Hermione snapped, exasperated at wasting two hours on fruitless research...
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Damaged Bridges