“What in the world are you talking about?” Narcissa hissed. “I’m her sister, her only direct family who hasn’t been disowned and disinherited.  I’m her heir.”

“That has yet to be determined, witch,” Bloodrazor grinned. “I don’t suppose you have the late Miss Lestrange’s will on hand, do you?  Because we have received none from your ministry.”

“The ministry is, as I’m sure you can understand, in a bit of a state right now,” Lucius drawled. “I’m sure the delivery of the paperwork has merely been delayed.  My wife and I merely wish to ascertain the state of the vault in question.”

“It’s dark and sealed,” Bloodrazor said dryly.

“We have her key; just let us in,” Narcissa muttered.

“Gringotts is not permitted to allow anyone into the vault of the deceased witch or wizard until such time as the matter of their inheritance has been settled,” Bloodrazor explained. “It’s clearly laid out in section sixteen-thirty-two, subsection B of the 1726 treaty we were made to sign.  I could show you if you wish.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Lucius scowled. “You’ll be hearing from our solicitors.”

“Maybe they’ll want to read that subsection,” Bloodrazor grinned as the pair of them got up and left. “I do so love making wizards and witches regret the things they’ve forced us into.”

“What are we going to do?” Narcissa hissed as she and Lucius apparated back home the moment they were out of the bank.

“I’ll think of something,” he muttered.

“Lucius…” Narcissa went to say.

“I said I’ll think of something!” Lucius hissed. “How I wish I could mount that little ingrate’s head on a spike.  He’s been all too happy to take our money in the past.”

“We didn’t have any rival Blacks then,” Narcissa replied. “Lucius, what’s in that vault?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I know it relates to the Dark Lord,” Lucius replied. “Bellatrix was utterly giddy when he entrusted it to her back in the day.  If he ever returns and we don’t have access to it...”

“How likely do you think that is?” Narcissa asked, her heart rate spiking at the thought.

“I don’t know,” Lucius replied. “It’s been over a decade since his fall, and we’ve seen no signs of him, so its entirely possible that the measures he took to conquer death failed entirely, but I’d never definitively say that he’s gone for good.  He always said he pushed the boundaries of dark magic further than anyone ever had and that he would rule forever once he took power, but...again, we’ve seen no sign of him.”

“Sirius could be a problem here,” Narcissa muttered. “That’s why I hoped we’d be able to smuggle out whatever that was before anyone else had a chance to poke around.”

“What do you mean?” Lucius asked. “Bellatrix married into the Lestrange family, and her vault is theirs.  It should go to whoever the closest heir of that family is.”

Narcissa sighed and called out, “Grubby!”

“Yes, mistress,” the house elf they’d bought to replay Dobby replied.

“Bring me my marriage contract,” Narcissa said, and the elf disappeared, reappearing a moment later with it in his hands. “Leave us.”

“What exactly do you think I’ve forgotten about our contract?” Lucius asked dryly. “I’m not that old yet.”

“It’s not something you forgot; it’s something you never needed to worry about,” Narcissa muttered, unfurling the contract and looking for the clause she was thinking of. “Here: ‘in the case that the marriage should reach its conclusion without the begetting of progeny, the dowry given will be returned in full with the agreed upon interest.  Should the family be unable to pay this debt, their assets, not exceeding in value the sum owed, shall be given to satisfy it.’”

“Yes,” Lucius nodded. “I can’t imagine that Bellatrix’s dowry was that much greater than yours.  I know she was the eldest daughter, but your father was also a most...frugal man.”

“It was a few hundred galleons more, but you’re forgetting the most important part of this equation,” Narcissa hissed. “The Lestranges were made to pay reparations to countless families.”

“I do remember that, Cissy, but the amounts they had to pay were negligible,” Lucius scoffed.

“For us, perhaps, but the Lestranges were not a wealthy family by the end of the war,” Narcissa replied, and he went still.

“Define ‘not wealthy,’” Lucius said coldly.

“I lent Bella money three times in the last month before the Dark Lord fell,” Narcissa admitted. “They spent so much in his service that they barely seemed to have any money left.  The sale of their manor might have brought in a tidy sum, but it was set ablaze after the trial, and the land went for less than it was worth, almost all of which was likely paid to the families that came forward.”

“They’re broke,” Lucius breathed, staring off in horror as he leaned back against the nearest wall.

“They might well be,” Narcissa replied, “and with Sirius in charge of the family, he’ll be the one making the decision on whether or not to enforce that contract, something he’ll likely do out of spite.”

“And you’re certain that that contract has the same clause?” Lucius asked.

“I cannot imagine that it wouldn’t,” Narcissa replied. “You know what my father was like.”

“Damn him!” Lucius thought to himself as a spike of cold fear shot down his spine.

It hadn’t occurred to him until after Potter succeeded in destroying it that using the Dark Lord’s diary in the way that he had might have been a bad idea.  If Voldemort ever returned and it turned out that the diary was mildly important to him, the consequences for Lucius would be horrifying, and if it turned out that it was very important to him…

“I cannot lose another object of importance to him like this,” he thought to himself. “I just can’t, especially since I’m responsible for Bellatrix not having children.”

It had seemed so simple at the time.  Sirius was an enemy of the Dark Lord and would be killed, Regulus had disappeared and was presumed dead; and Andromeda was a disowned disgrace.  A simple potion slipped into her tea one day had ensured that she’d never successfully carry a child, making his eventual child with Narcissa the guaranteed heir of the Black family.

“It all went so wrong,” he thought to himself. “I need to think.  We’ll work to stall Sirius however we can if he makes his move, and until then, do nothing.”

“Did you succeed in finding him?” Narcissa asked, and he smiled grimly.

“I did,” Lucius replied. “Potter and Black are about to have some rather serious problems on their hand which is why I’m not fretting about this more than I am.  We need to keep control of the situation and ensure that Sirius doesn’t get a chance to do anything regrettable, but if we can pull that off, this problem should resolve itself in time.”

Narcissa nodded at that, watching her husband go and wondering just what it was that had been stored in that vault.

*****

“Harder!  Harder!” Tonks screamed as Harry thrust up into her with every bit of strength he had.

She’d long since stopped riding him in any meaningful way, too overwhelmed by pleasure to maintain any sort of rhythm or even keep herself upright.  Under normal circumstances, he’d have rolled her over and just fucked her into the bed, but he couldn’t just then, and so he held her tightly, continuing to pound her with long, hard strokes.  She was even tighter than usually, almost too tight, really, but while he knew she could have changed that, he didn’t even think of asking her to.  The point of this mad idea had been to see how she took being stuffed to her absolute limit, and he adored the look of absolute ecstasy on her beautiful face.

“I’m gonna cum again...I...it’s too much, too...too...HARRY!” Tonks wailed as she came so hard she squirted, further soaking the utterly ruined bed under them, and not for the first time, he found himself grateful that the Room of Requirement could just conjure them new sheets, or a new mattress, or that one time, a whole new bed, as needed.

He let go with a roar, long since having reached his limits, and filled her up with rope after thick rope of his seed, flooding her spasming tunnel with it.  The two of them writhed in each other’s arms, consumed by the ecstasy thundering through them, and as his orgasm passed first, he collapsed on his back, panting for breath and holding her still-shaking form as tightly as he could.

“Fucking...hell,” Tonks panted, slumped over on his chest as it finally ended, and he grinned as he watched her pull her tail out of her gaping arsehole.

“I have the best ideas sometimes,” Harry sighed, and she giggled like a lunatic, her hair shifting through a kaleidoscope of colors as she stared up into his eyes.

“Double-penetration...fucking...rocks,” Tonks panted, grinning from ear to ear and clinging to him like she’d float away if she let go.  The two of them cuddled together like that for a good couple minutes, coming down from their highs as their sweat cooled on their skin, and after she finally caught her breath, she said, “I swear my legs are completely numb.”

“If I have to carry you around the castle tomorrow, I’m more than willing,” Harry quipped, and she grinned, pushing herself up and staring down at him.

“More than able too,” Tonks purred, tracing her fingers over one of his arms and over to his chest and abdomen. “You’ve developed some serious muscley goodness this year, lover.”

As if to demonstrate her point, she made the room transform the ceiling into a giant mirror, making Harry laugh.

“How the hell have we not done it in a room surrounded by mirrors yet?” he asked, and Tonks cackled, rolling onto her back and staring up at the mirrored ceiling.

“I made a perverted monster,” she sighed dramatically, only to laugh uncontrollably as he started tickling her ribs. “Stop, stop!”

“I’m your perverted monster,” Harry sighed as he stopped and stared down into her eyes, and she sighed happily. “So, how was that, other than clearly amazing?”

“It was so fucking intense,” Tonks sighed. “You fill me up in truly incredible ways on your own, but having essentially two of you inside me...I’m amazed it wasn’t too much even with my powers.  I’m sure my tailbone smells funny, but fuck, that was great.”

“I’m glad,” Harry smiled before rolling onto his back and grabbing his wand.

He hit them both with a few cleaning charms, and she had the room change the sheets and mattress before rolling over and resting her head on his chest.

“I think Chiara’s seeing someone,” she murmured, and he looked down in surprise.

“Really?” Harry asked as he put his wand back on the side table. “I guess our services might not be needed next month.  Um, when do you think this started?”

They’d helped Chiara in the exact same way on her second full moon using Elfwynn’s potion as they had for her first, and, that it took Harry’s tired mind a moment to remember, that had ended a few days earlier.

“I think it’s new, but I also think that the person in question knew about what she needed during the full moon and let her come to us without complaint,” Tonks replied, and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Person...not guy?” Harry asked.

“Men and women both count as people, luv,” Tonks teased, squealing when he slapped her ass.

“Who are you talking about?” Harry chuckled, and she grinned.

“I think we both know her,” Tonks replied.

“You said Hestia’s straight,” Harry murmured, and she rolled her eyes in amusement.

“I mean Hermione, Harry,” Tonks replied, and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“Her...Hermione’s not gay,” Harry spluttered.

“And you know this...how?” Tonks asked slowly, still amused.

“I...wow,” Harry sighed, leaning his head back. “I dunno, I just didn’t think she was.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t think she’s entirely gay, but the both of them have been missing at the same time too many times now for me not to suspect something,” Tonks murmured.

“I can check the map,” Harry said, grabbing his mokeskin pouch and pulling the map out of it. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

“I doubt they’re together now,” Tonks said. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry murmured, putting the map away. “I couldn’t see Hermione start sleeping with her so soon, since I have to imagine this started only in the last few weeks.”

“My guess is within the last couple,” Tonks murmured. “Their disappearances don’t go back further than that.”

“She had seemed happier lately, but I figured it was still because of her lighter, saner workload since she started taking a reasonable number of classes,” Harry chuckled. “This does make how we spend our full moons rather awkward, though, or at least it will until Hermione’s able to satisfy her herself.”

“Given how badly she starts craving cock the moment the moon rises while Elfywnn’s potion is in her system, that might be a problem,” Tonks murmured.

“I feel Hermione would be annoyed if I didn’t point out that the moon doesn’t actually rise so much as the sun sets,” Harry teased, and she rolled her eyes, slapping his shoulder.

“You know what I mean, smartarse,” Tonks sighed. “We’ll talk to them before the next moon, provided I’m right.  I might not be.”

“We’ll have to speak to them before the next moon,” Harry replied. “Luckily we do have a month.”

“Mmhmm,” Tonks replied tiredly, and Harry smiled, closing his eyes and hugging her to his chest. What was or wasn’t happening between their friends they could figure out another time.

*****

“Was this your doing?” Dumbledore asked pointedly as Slughorn sat down, tossing a copy of the issue of the Daily Prophet, which detailed the unsanctioned kissing of the ten Death Eater prisoners.

“You don’t actually expect me to answer that, do you?” Slughorn replied, and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed.

“Ten executions performed not by lawful edicts but on a whim, and moreover, the whim of someone with no authority whatsoever to order them,” Dumbledore glared. “It is utter lawlessness, even with the victims being so reprehensible.  This sort of thing cannot be allowed to become the norm…”

“And it won’t,” Slughorn replied. “There will be an inquiry, processes and regulations will be tightened to ensure that such things cannot happen again, and the criminal matter will be handed over to the DMLE, who will be more than happy to let it go cold whilst putting out comments over the next couple months about how they are continuing to investigate.  Whoever is responsible for this cock-up should thank their lucky stars that it only affected people no one in the country could publicly mourn.”

“A minor bureaucrat, most likely, possibly an old member of the Slug Club,” Dumbledore murmured, and Slughorn let himself display the slightest smile.

“You might think that,” he replied. “I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“Horace…” Dumbledore muttered.

“Enough, Albus,” Slughorn sighed. “I didn’t come here to discuss ministerial mistakes but rather a potential opportunity that might come of this particular one.”

“What sort of opportunity?” Dumbledore asked cautiously.

“You said that Tom’s first horcrux, or I certainly hope it was his first, had been in the possession of Lucius Malfoy,” Slughorn replied, and the headmaster nodded.

“Not that I could prove it, but yes,” Dumbledore replied. “Harry was certain that he was the one who slipped it into Miss Weasley’s book bag.”

“Lucius Malfoy was, as we figured, one of Tom’s most trusted lieutenants, but he was far from the only one and, I would wager, not the most trusted,” Slughorn said. “It stands to reason that if he was entrusted with one of them, so was another.”

“And you think the ten who went to Azkaban are our most likely candidates,” Dumbledore nodded.

“I do,” Slughorn replied, “and with their sudden passing, their vaults, which would have been kept sealed during their imprisonment, will pass to their next of kin.”

“Their homes were searched extensively, and any artifact as dark as a horcrux would have been noticed and seized,” Dumbledore mused. “Their vaults, on the other hand, would have been left untouched, save for the money taken to pay their fines and other expenses.”

“One in particular might be of interest to us,” Slughorn said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a scroll. “This is a copy of the marriage contract between Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange.”

“Sirius’ donation, I imagine,” Dumbledore murmured as he took and unfurled it.  He skimmed through it and quickly found the reason for Slughorn’s interest. “Her vault.”

“The contents of it could become his if he pushed for it,” Slughorn nodded, “and of all Tom’s most fanatical followers, I can’t think of any who were more devout than her, or more likely to be in possession of a horcrux.”

“You want my help,” Dumbledore said.

“Narcissa and Lucius will fight this, especially if I’m right about just what that vault contains and he knows about it,” Slughorn replied. “Sirius is within his rights, but he lacks any real political experience, and while I have rubbed elbows with generations of ministry men over the decades, I’m not you.”

“What have you told him so far?” Dumbledore asked.

“Only that I thought there might be a clause in the contract that could let him get one over on his cousin and her Death Eater husband,” Slughorn replied. “I remember Cygnus and Druella and I figured there was little chance that the marriage contracts for their children wouldn’t include something like this.”

“If Lucius and Narcissa fight this, they’d lose, but they could drag it on for months at least,” Dumbledore mused, stroking his long white beard. “I can think of a couple ways we could expedite the process, however, and I’ll reach out to Sirius once I have a solid plan.  How goes your work on the potion?”

“It’s proving to be rather vexing,” Slughorn replied, “but Elfwynn has turned out to be quite fascinating.  I’ve had to teach her about some of the more essential developments that have been made in potions over the past few centuries, but her mind has proven quite sharp, and I’ve been enjoying having a research partner again.  I haven’t yet made any real progress in refining the potion, but I’m hopeful.”

“It’s proven to be useful so far,” Dumbledore murmured. “Miss Lobosca has gone two full moons without transforming at all.”

“So Harry’s letter said,” Slughorn nodded. “If we can make this a viable solution for werewolves around the world before Tom returns, that alone will greatly reduce his numbers.”

“It will,” Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. “On that note, I have a potential lead on a horcrux.”

“Oh?” Slughorn asked, and Dumbledore reached into a drawer of his desk, pulling out a very old newspaper.

“That ring that you mentioned the last time we spoke, did it look like this?” he asked, placing it on the desk, and Slughorn picked it up to look more closely.

“I think so,” he replied, furrowing his brow at the sight of the large, dark stone on the scowling man’s hand. “Who was this?”

“Noctis Gaunt,” Dumbledore replied. “He was the head of the family during the mid-eighteenth century.”

“Gaunt,” Slughorn breathed. “How did you get your hands on this?”

“As I was researching Tom, I looked everywhere I could for references to his mother’s family and came across this article of Noctis receiving a medal for helping put down the goblin rebellion of 1752,” Dumbledore replied. “Your memory of the ring seemed to match this picture, but I wanted a second set of eyes to confirm it.  The last of the Gaunt family lived in a small hovel in the village of Little Hangleton before they were sent to prison decades ago.  I learned the other day that that shack still stands, having been left untouched in all this time.”

“It must be heavily enchanted to have avoided muggle interference in all this time,” Slughorn said.

“You asked me to inform you if I went after any of them, and so I am,” Dumbledore murmured. “Are you free this evening?”

“I am,” Slughorn nodded. “I’ll meet you outside the village square around six if that works.”

“I’ll see you then,” Dumbledore nodded. “Oh, and Horace?”

“Yes,” Slughorn asked as he stood up.

“I trust there won’t be any further little mishaps like the one in Azakan going forward,” Dumbledore said pointedly, and Slughorn merely smiled.

“That is entirely possible,” he replied. “Good day, old friend.”

With that, he disappeared through the floo, and Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair just as Fawkes flew over and landed on his desk, trilling softly.

“I know we’re all safer with them gone, but it being done this way…” he muttered. “I dearly hope there don’t end up being any lasting consequences from this.”

Fawkes gave him the bird equivalent of a shrug, and Dumbledore shook his head, focusing on the adventure to come that evening.

*****

“Snape is such a dick,” Hestia muttered, massaging her sore hand as she glared down at her essay on the essence of insanity. “Why the hell do we have to write an essay on this one before we brew it and then another afterward?”

“Because it’s incredibly dangerous and if brewed incorrectly, the fumes from it alone can drive the brewer mad,” Hermione replied. “I know he’s unpleasant, but the point of that exercise has to be to let him make sure that you all understand the steps first.”

“The alternative would be actually walking us through the steps first, but that would require him to do more than write things on a board and bark at us, and goodness knows he can’t do that,” Tonks muttered.

“How the hell did I let you talk me into continuing potions?” Hestia grumbled and Tonks winced, her hair turning a guilty red.

“Because I need to keep at it if I’m going to become an auror and you’re the best friend a girl could have,” she replied.

“I’d have done it, really, but Snape refused to accept me with my mere ‘exceeds expectations’,” Chiara grinned, and both her friends groaned.

“A thing you’re just absolutely broken up about, I’m sure,” Hestia sulked, and Chiara chuckled.

“Wait, you can’t keep taking potions if you don’t get an Outstanding for your O.W.L. year?” Harry asked.

“Your potions work has improved, and you have years to continue learning,” Hermione assured him. “I’ll help as I can, and I’m sure Tonks and Hestia will too.”

“You’ll also be spending your summer living with the ghost of a potions genius,” Ron reminded him, sighing in relief as he finished his charms essay. “Bloody hell, finally.  Harry, do you want to come to the lake with me?  It’s finally warming up, and I need to get out of the castle.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Harry replied. “I have more work to do on this, and then Dora and I have a runes essay I need to finish.”

“I still can’t believe you actually took the schedule that you did,” Ron chuckled. “Well, I’ll see you all at dinner.”

They said their goodbyes and Harry eyed Dora, who smirked and looked over at Chiara.  She and Hermione were sitting together on the loveseat that they’d had the Room of Requirement place there as part of their replica of the Hufflepuff common room.  On the face of it, it didn’t look all that odd, as she and Harry were seated in the other loveseat, and having it create two of those and two chairs looked very symmetrical and nice; nothing worth thinking about.  Hestia had been told ahead of time to sit in one of the chairs, and they’d subtly directed Ron to sit in the other one, leaving only one option for the suspected couple.

“They don’t look too close, per se, but the loveseat is big enough that their thighs don’t need to be touching quite like that,” Harry thought to himself as Tonks spoke up.

“Chiara?” she asked.

“Yeah?” the werewolf replied.

They’d discussed how exactly to try to confirm their suspicions a couple times without deciding on any particular approach, and in the end, Harry yielded to his girlfriend, figuring that, as she was older and had known Chiara for years, she’d come up with something suitably subtle.

“Harry and I were thinking, for the next Hogsmeade trip, that the two of us and you and Hermione could make it a double date,” Tonks replied, and Hermione, who had been sipping water she’d just conjured, barely avoided spitting it onto her essay.

“Of course, that would require Dora to be capable of subtly,” he thought to himself as Chiara and Hermiome both gaped at her.

“What?” the brunette asked, reddening, “We...we…”

“With that mastery of subtle interrogation techniques, you’re surely going to go far with the aurors,” Hestia snarked, and Tonks gave her a two-finger salute in response.

“You two have been disappearing at the same time oddly often lately, and you’ve both seemed rather upbeat,” the metamorph said. “I was going to chalk it up to your reduced schedule and lack of fur over the past little while, but it seems like a little more than that.”

“Mi?” Chiara whispered, and Hermione sighed.

“It’s new...very new, and it’s not something I saw coming, but...yes,” she replied. “We’ve been hanging out together in the library a fair bit and…”

“We discovered that we had a fair few things in common,” Chiara finished, smiling and taking her hand. “We were going to tell you all, of course, but with it being so new…”

“Hermione, I’m happy for you, but there is one reason why you and I need to discuss this,” Harry said, giving her a pointed look, and she sighed.

“I’m aware of...everything,” Hermione replied. “Chiara and I have discussed the specifics of the potion at great length, and she told me what she experiences when she’s under it.  I’m not...ready for that kind of thing just yet…”

“And I have no desire to rush you,” Chiara murmured, earning a smile from the brunette.

“I also know that the cravings are particularly...focused in ways that I could not fulfill even if I were ready,” Hermione finished. “The only alternative to the solution you’ve found involves her being tortured by the transformation every month, and I couldn’t ask that of her, so your continued involvement, during those specific nights, is something that I’ll just have to accept.”

“You know, once you’re ready for intimacy, I could donate a few of my hairs for you to use with polyjuice,” Harry offered, making her jaw drop. “I wouldn’t want to come between you at all.”

Hermione flushed scarlet at the thought he’d just put in her head, unable to stop herself from picturing it.  Her, in Harry’s form, using Harry’s...form on her new girlfriend was one of the most insane things she’d ever contemplated, and she had to stop herself from shuddering when she felt heat pool in her core.

“I think you broke her,” Hestia murmured as Chiara wrapped an arm around Hermione.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine, I’m fine, I…”  Hermione went to reply before shaking her head. “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement, Harry.”

Harry did his best not to laugh at her stiff reply, realizing for the first time then just how much he’d grown and developed over the last several months.  He’d been just as innocent and easily flushed when it came to sexual topics before he started seeing Dora, who had since thoroughly corrupted him.

“This really has been the best year,” he thought to himself, smiling at his girlfriend.  Not only has his life completely turned around because of her, he’d been greatly changed too.

“What are you thinking?” Tonks asked.

“How lucky I am to have you in my life,” Harry murmured, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the sheer sincere affection in his voice.

Leaning in, she kissed him softly, chuckling when Hestia mimed shoving her finger down her throat.

“Bloody finally,” the brunette sighed as she finished her essay. “Hey, Tonks, you want to read this over while I check yours?”

“Of course,” Tonks replied, fishing her own finished essay out of her mokeskin pouch.

*****

“Merlin’s beard,” Slughorn sighed as he looked down at the sword in his hand. “Goblin silver imbued with basilisk venom.  This must be one of the most dangerous weapons in the world.  Thank goodness the goblins haven’t figured out how to safely breed basilisks themselves, or this could really cause us trouble.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore murmured, carefully taking it back from him. “This is why I was reluctant to bring it at all.”

“We have no way of knowing just what vile enchantments Tom’s placed on the ring,” Slughorn said. “I’d rather destroy it here than bring it back with us.”

“This shack has been abandoned for decades, so curses are unlikely to be the only dangers we’re going to face,” Dumbledore murmured. “Do you remember any of the Gaunts?”

“No,” Slughorn replied. “I do remember Armando once mentioning a student from that family who attended before we did, but I never taught any of them.  I imagine they fell on rather hard times.”

“Their dedication to maintaining the purity of their blood was beyond that of most purebloods, and I suspect it started to produce rather unfortunate side effects,” Dumbledore said as he led Slughorn on through the dark, quiet village. “Merope was a squib, I believe, and neither her father, Marvolo, nor her brother attended Hogwarts.”

“Marvolo,” Slughorn mused. “She named him for her lover and her father.”

“Husband, though from what I’ve seen, a love potion was used to coerce him into that,” Dumbledore said. “He was a local boy here and the son of one of the wealthier muggle families.  When he left her, presumably because she stopped giving him the potion, that sealed all their fates.”

“The product of a disturbed young girl and a duped young man, shaped by the environment of an orphanage,” Slughorn sighed. “Do you think something happened to him as a boy to make him the way he became or that he was just born as he was?”

“I hate to think that anyone could end up just born as evil as Tom became, but already when I met him, he was cruel,” Dumbledore sighed. “I thought he’d grow out of it, that spending time at Hogwarts among his peers and forming genuine connections might have a positive impact on him, but it never did, and before he even left our halls, he’d already committed the most vile acts imaginable.”

“I’ll pity him...when he’s gone for good,” Slughorn sighed, grimacing as they came across the shack just outside the village. “Merlin’s beard, there must be some sort of powerful charm on this to stop the muggles from noticing it.  There’s no way the villagers would have let this eyesore remain otherwise.”

“I imagine there are a great many charms at work here,” Dumbledore murmured, kneeling down by the property line and drawing his wand.

He cast every detection charm he knew, looking for wards of some kind and furrowing his brow in confused suspicion when he found only the most basic sort.

“There are hardly any protections placed here aside from a ward to keep the muggles from seeing it,” Dumbledore said as he slowly unraveled all the others. “I’m going to keep that one here for the moment, just in case Tom ever comes by.”

“The only reason why Tom would come here would be to check on his horcrux,” Slughorn argued. “He’s never been the sentimental type, as you know well.  There will be no practical difference between simply removing and destroying it and letting the muggles finally tear this place down.”

“If he comes here to find the shack intact but no ring, he’ll fly into a rage and rush off to check on the other horcruxes,” Dumbledore reasoned. “If he comes here to find that the property’s been developed and a family is living here, he will inflict upon them cruelties such as few living souls have ever had the deep misfortune of suffering.”

“Fair point,” Slughorn sighed. “Once he’s gone for good, though, I’m setting it on fire.  It’s an assault to the senses.”

Dumbledore chuckled at that and led him inside.

“Of course you realize that if there are few protective wards outside, that makes it more likely that there are absolutely lethal protections on the ring itself,” Slughorn said as Dumbledore opened the door with a wave of his wand.

“There was never much chance that there wouldn’t be,” he replied, casting a silent lumos charm and peering inside.

The interior of the dilapidated ruin was just as bad as the interior.  The wards around it had stopped muggles from going in and vandalizing the place, but they hadn’t been sufficent to stop the rest of the world from having an impact.  More than one of the windows had been broken in the years since, almost certainly due to damage from storms, and so rain had managed to get in rather frequently.  The floor, especially around those broken windows, looked black and rotten, weakened to the point of being dangerous, and as Dumbledore started casting strengthening charms on the wooden boards, Slughorn noticed the musty scent of mold in the air and cast bubble-head charms on both of them.

“A wise precaution,” the headmaster murmured as he took his first hesitant steps inside. “I’m surprised that Tom didn’t put more effort into keeping this place protected.”

“He acquired the ring when he was still at Hogwarts and very likely didn’t come back here very many times after that,” Slughorn said. “It’s possible that he didn’t know how to create fully protective wards back then and never bothered to return.  I assume you think the ring is the one hidden here.”

“It would make sense,” Dumbledore replied. “While Tom wasn’t the most sentimental creature in the world, he could be rather...artistic in his cruelty at times.  Taking the ring from his mother’s family and then hiding it in their home after he’d taken care of them would seem rather poetic to him, I’m sure.”

“What happened to them?” Slughorn asked.

“Marvolo died in the mid-twenties, not long after he got out of Azkaban,” Dumbledore replied. “He and Morfin had been sent there after attacking Merope, likely over her infatuation with Tom Riddle, and assaulting an auror.  Morfin was convicted of murdering Tom Riddle and his parents during the summer before Tom’s last year at Hogwarts, though given the fact that he managed to acquire his family’s ring around that time, I do have to wonder if his uncle actually committed the crimes he was convicted of.”

“Four murders before he even graduated, three of them his blood relatives,” Slughorn sighed, shaking his head.

“Now where would Tom hide something he didn’t want us to find?” Dumbledore murmured to himself, casting detection charms on the few pieces of furniture in the main sitting room to see if any of them might have been transfigured vaults. “My guess is that something in here is a heavily cursed safe of some sort, hidden from sight.”

“Albus, you might be overthinking it,” Slughorn murmured, and the other man cocked a bushy white eyebrow at him. “You’re trying to think like the great and terrible Lord Voldemort would, but if he did hide the thing here when you suspect he did, he’d still have been largely Tom then, frightfully brilliant, but still an adolescent with an adolescent’s idea of how to hide things.  Where, invariably, did we always find contraband when, went looking for it at Hogwarts?”

“Under something,” Dumbledore said slowly, smiling at that.

He and Slughorn quickly started levitating the furniture around the room, looking under it for anything of note, and finding little more than dust and one very irate squirrel that they quickly relocated outside.

“Well, it was a thought,” Slughorn sighed, waving his wand around as he tried to see if he could find anything of note.

“We may yet...wait, point your wand back there!” Dumbledore breathed, and Slughorn turned back around slowly, grinning when he saw a glint of gold through a crack in the floor. “As we used to say, Horace, on some level, all children are the same.”

Slughorn chuckled, and the two of them started lifting the floorboards, quickly revealing a small golden box that he levitated out.

“Check this for curses, and I’ll draw the blade,” he murmured, and Dumbledore nodded, handing him the sheathed Sword of Gryffindor.

“The box itself seems to be fine, though I am detecting something truly terrible inside,” the headmaster murmured as he, confident that there weren’t any enchantments on the box, opened it up and looked inside.  His jaw dropped as he saw the ring inside, finally able to see, up close, a detail in the dark stone that he’d missed in Slughorn’s imperfect memory and the newspaper article he’d found. “That’s...it’s not possible.”

The rest of the world fell away for him, and he stared down at the ring, thinking it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.  The Resurrection Stone, the Deathly hallow, he’d coveted most for the better part of a century, was lying before him, and before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching for it.  With it, he could speak to Ariana, finally tell her how sorry he was for what happened, and ask the one question that had haunted his very soul since that very night.

“...bus?” he vaguely heard in the background, paying it no heed as he reached forward and tried to grab the ring, intending to put it on, only for it to fly out of the box.

“No!” Dumbledore shouted as he saw it fly right towards an outstretched blade.

He raised his wand, furious in a way that he hadn’t been in decades, only for his rage to dissipate like morning dew the moment the ring hit the blade.  A terrible scream echoed through the room, high-pitched and terrified, and he watched in shock as inky smoke emitted from the bisected remains of it.

“Did you miss something?” Slughorn demanded, relaxing once he saw the anger in his old friend’s eyes disappear. “You were clearly under some compulsion.”

“There might have been a mild and very subtle compulsion charm on the box,” Dumbledore murmured, shaking his head and staring down at the ring.  By luck, it had hit Gryffindor’s sword on its side, and he smiled when he saw the golden semi-circle lying across an untouched stone. “I owe you my thanks.”

“Whatever was on it is gone now,” Slughorn murmured, checking the remnants of the ring before picking up the severed bit of the band.

“As is the horcrux,” Dumbledore murmured, levitating the Stone over and checking it for any sign that something might have survived.

“The basilisk venom destroyed the curses on it too,” Slughorn declared. “It’s a good thing you brought me; I don’t want to imagine what might have happened if you’d put that on like he seemed to want to.”

“No attempt to secure a horcrux should be done alone,” Dumbledore nodded. “They’re too dangerous for that.”

“Does that stone seem to be magic-free as well?” Slughorn asked.

“There are no traces of Tom’s magic left on it,” Dumbledore replied, neither lying nor truly answering the question.

“Then we have, at most, four to go,” Slughorn said. “Do you have any idea what the others might be?”

“Given his obsession with Hogwarts, I wouldn’t be surprised if he purposefully went out to try to find things tied to its history,” Dumbledore replied. “I’m trying at the moment to track down where he went and who he met with during the years between his graduation and the start of his reign of terror, as I believe that the seeds of all he did were laid then.  If I come across anything substantial, I’ll let you know.”

“I told Sirius about what he could do with Bellatrix’s vault after I left your office, and he thinks that sounds hilarious,” Slughorn said. “He should write to you soon asking for advice, as I convinced him not to attempt it without your counsel.”

“Good,” Dumbledore nodded. “I gave that some thought today, and I believe I have a good plan for us to move forward with, one that should make it difficult for Lucius Malfoy to interfere, even with his numerous connections in the ministry.  Hold off on telling him why we’re so interested in this, as I want to have that conversation with him myself.”

“Are you planning to tell him about the horcruxes?” Slughorn asked.

“I’m of two minds, honestly,” Dumbledore sighed. “The Black family library likely has some books on the subject, and I know that if I tell him about them, he’ll read up on the subject…”

“You fear he might figure out what we suspect about poor Harry,” Slughorn said.

“I fear he might do something rash if he does,” Dumbledore replied. “He seems stable, remarkably so, given what he went through, but he still spent so many years in Azkaban, years wherein he wouldn’t have developed and matured as he would have in the world.  The idea of someone who likely still has the mindset of a very young man learning that the last tie he has to his late best friend carries within him a piece of his enemy’s soul and might have to die for said enemy to be finished off is…”

“Promise me that if he does come back, you’ll tell them,” Slughorn sighed. “I understand why you don’t want to, at least without a non-theoretical solution, but if he finds a way to crawl back to life, Harry will have a right to know the truth.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t come for many years, if it does at all,” Dumbledore murmured.

“You might also want to leave him a letter explaining everything, just in case,” Slughorn murmured. “I know we both still feel like young men, but we really aren’t, and we can’t all be Armando.”

Dumbledore chuckled at that and shook his head.

“A wise precaution, I suppose,” he murmured as he finished putting the box back where they’d found and fixing the floor. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

“By all means,” Slughorn muttered, scrunching up his nose as he looked around. “Merlin and Morgana, what a dump.”

“Your inner snob is showing, old friend,” Dumbledore smiled, and Slughorn snorted.

“When has it ever been inner?” he asked.

*****

“I fucking love you,” Harry groaned as Tonks worked out the knot in his right shoulder, and she giggled.

“What the hell happened, anyway?” she asked. “It’s rare you come back from practice banged up. Now the games where you try your best to kill yourself, that’s different.”

“I don’t try to kill myself,” Harry chuckled. “The twins were helping me practice dodging bludgers…”

“I’m sure you had to twist their arms on that one,” Tonks chuckled.

“It was Wood’s idea, though I agreed it was necessary, given that we’re facing Slytherin again in a couple weeks,” Harry replied. “I didn’t get hit, but on one particularly sharp turn, I felt something in my shoulder twinge, and by the time practice ended, it had bunched up pretty badly.”

“You pulled a muscle, and it tensed up in response,” Tonks replied. “Dehydration can make that more likely, which is why every Quidditch player I’ve ever spoken to has mentioned at least once that they make sure they have enough water before a match or practice, but even then, it can happen if you move wrong.  I’ll work on stretching this out once it relaxes.”

“It seems obvious now, but I never realized before how much knowing basic anatomy and first aid would matter for Aurors,” Harry murmured, and she smiled.

“Even if it isn’t their own injuries or those of their colleagues, aurors come across injured people all the time, and it pays to be able to help in a crisis,” Tonks replied. “I had a chance to meet Amelia Bones once in Diagon Alley and, being a dumb kid, immediately asked her what I could do to increase my chances of becoming an auror.  She laughed it off and gave me a few bits of basic advice, though one thing she said most don’t think of is knowing basic healing magic.  Mum was thrilled by that answer, hoping that it might spark an interest in becoming a healer in me, though that never happened.”

“I feel better already,” Harry sighed, and she smiled, grabbing her wand and casting a charm she’d learned earlier that year.

He groaned as he felt the muscles of his shoulder relax entirely, feeling his arm go limp, and marveled at how quickly the remaining pain disappeared.  She undid the charm a second later, and as he regained the ability to move his arm, he rolled his shoulder, smiling when he found he could do so freely again.

“How’s that feel?” Tonks asked.

“Perfect,” Harry replied, standing up and kissing her. “It’s a shame we don’t do Halloween costumes here because you’d make a great sexy nurse.”

“I could always pick up an outfit like that during the summer,” Tonks grinned. “Nurse Dora would take very, very good care of you.  Just tell me where it hurts.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll answer for you pretty quickly,” Harry rumbled, and she winced as she felt her insides clench. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tonks replied. “I’m already mostly better, but I’m still a little tender.  We’re totally doing double-penetration again, but it can’t be something we do often.  I still can’t believe you came up with me growing a tail and using like a cock before I did.  I’ve seriously corrupted you, baby.”

“Much to my everlasting joy,”  Harry smiled, hugging her.

“Harry Potter, Sir?” Dobby asked, and the two of them practically jumped away from each other in shock. “Dobby is sorry about that, but Harry Potter’s dogfather sent a letter.”

“Sirius still insists you call him that?” Harry asked as he took the letter.

He’s asked Dobby not long after learning about the Room of Requirement from him if he wanted to work for him and, unsurprisingly, the elf had accepted immediately.  He and Teeny seemed to be getting on so far and Sirius had clearly taken to him.

“He does,” Dobby replied. “Does Harry Potter want Dobby to wait?”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry replied. “Hedwig could use some exercise, so I’ll send my reply with her.”

Dobby nodded and disappeared just as he opened the envelope and pulled out his letter.

“What does he want?” Tonks asked, curious.

Harry shrugged as he started reading.

Pup,

I trust you read about the accidental mass-kissing at Azkaban, but in case you didn’t, ten of the worst S.O.B.s in the country got their souls sucked out, and most deservedly so.  For obvious reasons I’m glad that they didn’t, but the ministry should have, frankly, executed the convicted Death Eaters back in the day.  Among them was my cousin Bellatrix, the dark wanker’s most devoted and quite possibly most psychotic follower, and according to Horace, I have an opportunity here to do something very funny.

She never had kids, and so, under the marriage contract between her and her also-executed husband, I have the power to demand back the dowry from the marriage or an equivalent value of her things.  Since she likely died broke, that should mean the contents of her vault at Gringotts, which will be something else I can prevent the Malfoys from getting their grubby paws on.  Aside from the fact that it will just be funny, I imagine that it will be in everyone’s interest to prevent Lucius from accessing whatever dark and demented artifacts she had stuffed in there, some of which may have actually belonged to Voldemort.

Horace suggested that I turn to Albus for advice, which is precisely what I’m going to do, and it will likely take weeks at minimum, but I just wanted to let you know in advance in case the Malfoy brat starts acting even more dour and irritated with you than normal.  I’ll also be attending the last Quidditch game of the season, so I’ll be able to watch you kick his arse in person.

Hope you’re doing well,

Sirius

“I didn’t even think that her death might mean Sirius could grab her shit,” Tonks grinned. “The psycho bitch would be furious at the thought if she were still around.”

“You’ve mentioned before that she was one of the worst, but you’ve never said what that really meant,” Harry murmured, and she sighed.

“A few years ago, after one of her most prominent victims finally died in Saint Mungo’s, I stumbled across my parents listening to the wizarding wireless, and Mum just looked...wrecked,” Tonks replied. “They didn’t notice me, and she started ranting about what a horrible human being her sister was.  Apparently she used to send Mum the occasional poem after I was born describing the ways she was going to kill me.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered.

“She tried contacting the aurors, but they could never trace them to anyone,” Tonks continued. “Apparently the last few were written in a red ink that she was very convinced was blood.  The world is a better place without her, without all of them.  I wrote to Mum when the news broke, asking if she’d found out yet, really asking how she was handling it, and her reply was one of the most generic things I’ve ever read, which generally means that she didn’t want to get into what she was really thinking.”

“You really do win the terrible relatives contest,” Harry quipped, and she laughed.

“Hard not to when you’re related to the Blacks,” Tonks sighed. “Let’s change the subject.  How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous,” Harry replied. “My first year we went undefeated until the final match against Ravenclaw, where, just as I caught the snitch, they scored one last goal to put them a hundred and sixty points ahead of us.  I don’t know if I’ve been that mad in my entire life.”

“You didn’t realize they were a hundred and fifty ahead?” Tonks asked, and he shook his head.

“I was so hyper-focused on the damn snitch that I missed the previous goal too,” Harry muttered. “Last year, of course, the tournament was canceled half-way through because of the attacks.  This year, we’re better than we’ve ever been, but Slytherin’s still really bloody good.  It’s Wood’s last chance to win the cup, and pro scouts always make a point of attending the last game of the year, so he’s been driving us all insane over the last month.”

“I used to swear that bloke would sooner date a broom than a bird,” Tonks chuckled. “For the recorded, I’m still just a little pissed that you kicked the living shite out of the Puff squad in your last game, but I’ll be cheering for you anyway.”

“You’re so generous,” Harry drawled, making her laugh.

“You’ve got this,” Tonks said. “You’re twice the seeker my dickhead cousin is and you’re not wrong about your team.  Wood’s gonna play his bollocks off; your chasers are bloody brilliant this year, and the twins will do what they do best: wreak havoc.”

“You’re right,” Harry smiled. “We are the odds-on favorite for a reason.”

“Wish you weren’t, honestly,” Tonks chuckled. “I might have made a galleon otherwise.”

“You’d bet on me?” Harry asked, giving her an exaggerated smile, and she grinned.

“Over Draco bloody Malfoy?” Tonks asked. “Any day.”

“Man, this is nice,” Harry sighed. “At the start of the year, it really seemed like it was going to be a repeat of the first two.  Sirius had escaped and was apparently after my blood, and there were damn dementors everywhere, and it really did feel like the Stone issue from my first year or the Chamber last year.  That all got cleared up before Christmas, though, and now?  I get to live like a normal student, complain about my professors, enjoy Quidditch, and just live my life without worrying about what’s going to strike at me next.  I have you to thank for almost all of that.”

“I am pretty amazing, huh?” Tonks asked, and he kissed her deeply.

“You are,” Harry whispered. “You’ve transformed my life in ways I can barely explain much less repay.”

“You repay me plenty,” Tonks purred. “You’re not the only one who’s had their life change for the better this year, stud.  I never imagined that I’d be this happy.”

Harry hugged her, and she smiled widely, burying her face in the crook of his neck and melting at the feeling of his strong arms around her.  Standing there, in the Room of Requirement, being held by her boyfriend, it was easy to feel like nothing in all the world could hurt them and they’d be that blissfully happy forever.

*****

A blood-curdling scream echoed through the cave as the young man they’d dragged out of his car writhed on the ground in agony, his organs spilling out of his abdomen.

“Shut up, human!” Borris exclaimed, and he’d have asked what the fuck he thought he was if he could think through the pain just then, for his assailant looked no less human than he was. Appearances, though, could be very deceiving.

“Eat his liver first, Boris,” Greyback commanded, and the other werewolf nodded, ripping the thick, dark organ from the human’s squirming form and digging his teeth into it.

The others watched, licking their lips as the newest member of this most selective part of the pack took his first step in cutting himself off from his human side.  Greyback grinned, always happy to teach other werewolves how to fully embrace their gift.  Only the greatest among them, the strongest, and the fiercest ever dared do this.  Most werewolves weren’t worthy of the gift.  Simpering, all-too-human wretches who fought what they should have celebrated.  Greyback had turned many people over the years, and even among those who joined his pack afterward, few ever went as far in embracing the gift as he did.

The human’s screaming died off as he did, a rictus of agony and terror marking his lifeless face as Boris continued to eat him, snarfing down the rest of the liver and tearing his corpse open to get at the meat.  He’d been fourteen when he was bitten, when his life had changed forever.  Immediately scorned and shunned by everyone he’d ever known, he fled in the night, heartbroken and furious.  It took him months to find anyone who he could turn to, months he spent subsisting on whatever he could steal or fish out of dumpsters.  The raw flesh of the man under him wasn’t the tastiest thing he’d ever eaten, but it was far from the worst.

“Don’t forget to tear off his legs,” Greyback grinned. “The marrow found in their thigh bones is fantastic.”

“This will let me be like you?” Boris asked, looking up at the alpha wolf.

Thanks in large part to how completely he’d rejected his humanity, Greyback didn’t fully turn back when the full moon ended anymore.  His eyes remained a glowing yellow, his fangs stayed sharp and long, and his body was covered in thick grey hair, matching the matted mane that fell from his head.

“It will take more than one act of cannibalism to make you like me, pup, but you will eventually if you have the stomach to continue,” Greyback replied. “Look around you and see what werewolves are truly meant to be.”

Boris looked at the four others with them, all men older than him yet younger than Greyback, each of whom showed off features more akin to an animal than a man, though none who quite looked as wolf-like as their alpha.

“You’re going to get plenty of chances to feed like this where we’re going,” Brutus, Greyback’s second in command, said.

“Where are we going?” Boris asked.

“The dark forest near Hogwarts,” Greyback replied, and Boris furrowed his brow in confusion.

“The school?  Why?” he asked. “It’s not even the full moon.”

“I’m in a good mood right now, so I won’t thrash you for questioning me,” Greyback snarled, and Boris gulped, taking a step back involuntarily. “We have some prey to hunt, prey that I think we’re going to have a lot of fun luring out and using as bait.  As for the moon, well, they won’t expect it now, will they, and we are far from defenseless even without it.”

He howled at that, and the others joined in, their thirst for blood making their hair stand on end with anticipation.