September melted into October without Harry even being aware of the passage of time. He felt as if he’d flipped through the pages of every book in the library and still come up with nothing on Horcruxes. He’d begun to understand Hermione’s dismay that the library had let her down. How could there be nothing written about something that obviously existed?

He’d continued his Occlumency lessons with the Malfoys, but hadn’t made any progress since that first lesson. While Harry’s head ached during practice and even for a short time afterwards, he hadn’t experienced any of the visions or flashes of Voldemort’s moods as he had during his fifth year. The sessions always left him feeling tired and drained, however.

A dismal, tense mood had settled over headquarters during the past week. The number of Dark creature attacks against Muggles had increased dramatically. In fact, Mr. Weasley said he couldn’t remember a time when there had been more vampire sightings within Britain. Several high-ranking Ministry officials had gone missing within a short span of time, leaving those left behind overworked and anxious. Some of the wealthier families had gone abroad, as far away from Britain as they could get.

Members of the Order were spread thin trying to clean up one mess after another, leaving headquarters virtually empty most of the time. While this allowed Harry to do his research unhindered, it also meant that no one had had the time to look for Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers.

The attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns had Hermione understandably worried for her own family. Mr. Weasley had promised that her family was being watched, but she still worried. She’d got a bee in her bonnet about returning to Albania, that they’d somehow missed something there.

Again, something in Harry’s gut told him what they were looking for wasn’t in Albania. Ginny had suggested that perhaps Voldemort hadn’t spent all his time there, after all. Greece bordered a large part of Albania and maybe that was what inspired his use of the Parthenon. Harry allowed that it was possible, but regardless, he didn’t think either place held any answers for him.

Of course, Hermione wouldn’t let it go and refused to accept his reasoning without a more sound explanation for his unwillingness to go back. The problem was Harry didn’t have a sound reason; he just knew it. A dark, underlying part of him wondered if it had something to do with the bit of Voldemort’s soul that he now knew resided within him.

He and Hermione had argued about it over breakfast, and now Harry was sitting in front of a fire in the drawing room with a large book on the Dark Arts in his lap. He wasn’t really seeing the words, however. His eyes had glazed as his mind dwelled upon the fact that he was a Horcrux.

Locating and destroying the cup had been a huge victory, but it also brought him one step closer to doing what he feared he’d have to do. He couldn’t talk about it with any of the others because it seemed to distress them even more than it distressed him. So, Harry was left alone to contemplate his feelings, and the toll was wearing him down.

This was how Ginny found him when she entered the drawing room and sat down next to him. He took a moment to even acknowledge her presence, and when he did, it was with a start.

"What are you thinking about that’s making you frown that way?" she asked, smoothing the tense lines around his mouth with her fingers.

"I was just thinking about what we had to do next," he replied.

"You’re worried," she said.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked upwards — he could never fool her. "A bit," he said. "Hermione wants to go back to Albania."

Ginny nodded without response. Harry had the impression she’d already heard the other side of the argument and wondered if she’d sought him out to continue Hermione’s pleas.

When Ginny remained silent, he prodded her. "What d’you think?"

"Well," she replied slowly, "I can see why Hermione feels the way she does, but I also think your instincts have been spot on so far. If you don’t think it’s what we should do, I’m willing to trust your judgment."

Her words didn’t reassure him the way they should have. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you trust me? How can you be so certain I’m making the right decisions?"

"Harry, I think it’s only human to second guess our decisions. The only time we can ever be certain if we’re doing right is after the fact. You have to make these decisions without hindsight and, so far, it’s working. You were right about the last Horcrux — not only where it was, but how to destroy it. I don’t know how you know, but you do. I trust you, Harry."

Ginny’s eyes bored into him, and he turned away from the intense scrutiny, feeling exposed and utterly vulnerable. "You shouldn’t. I have a nasty habit of getting the people I care about killed," he choked.

"That’s a Malfoy talking," Ginny snapped. "Don’t listen to them, Harry. They’re trying to get under your skin. I hate this stupid Occlumency idea. Malfoy hates you because of his own inferiority complex. He’ll never be better than you, and inside he knows it, and it eats him alive."

Despite his melancholy, he couldn’t help but smile at her fierce loyalty. "I love it when you’re fiery," he said, grinning.

"Oh, you do, do you?" she asked, swaying her shoulders seductively. "I can show you fiery."

Leaning over, she kissed him soundly. He ran his fingers through the shorter strands of her hair as every nerve ending in his body suddenly stood on end. After several minutes of pleasant but tame kissing, she pulled back, frowning.

"What’s bothering you, Harry?" she asked.

Harry averted his eyes again, wanting desperately to talk with her, but also worried about her reaction. Before he could second-guess it, the words burst from his throat. "I’m scared, Ginny. What if the reason I’m feeling this connection to these Horcruxes is because they’re part of me, too?"

Ginny nodded solemnly, as if she understood his fear. "It most likely is. That would make sense."

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He wanted her to deny it and give him logical reasons why it couldn’t be so.

"But, Ginny! How can you say that and still trust me? I’ve got a bit of Voldemort in me," he said, nearly choking on the words.

"Yes," Ginny replied, nodding. "You have a bit inside you, but it’s not you. You’re in control, and you’re the one I trust."

"How can you be certain?" he whispered, fighting the hope that flared in his heart.

"Is that what’s bothering you?" she asked, tracing the line of his face with her fingertips. "Are you worried that Tom has more control over you than you know? Don’t let him do that, Harry. He’s making you doubt yourself, that’s how he works. Don’t let him succeed. You’re going to beat him. You’ll find these other two Horcruxes, and then you’ll manage to defeat him while keeping yourself whole. I know you will."

"Ginny-"

"Don’t doubt it, Harry."

"I have to! Are you listening to yourself? Ginny, I have to destroy a part of myself to win," Harry said, feeling utterly hopeless.

"No," she replied firmly. "You don’t have to destroy part of yourself. He’s separate from you, and after all this time, he’s never been able to gain control."

Harry looked up suddenly, her words jarring loose a memory.

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

"That instrument that I got from Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, his mind racing. "When I saw him checking it after your father was hurt, remember how I told you the smoke formed a snake? Well, Professor Dumbledore said something about being divided and the one snake split into two. Do you suppose it was me that he was checking on — checking to see if he’d managed to take control?"

"It’s certainly plausible," Ginny said slowly, "but didn’t you say Dumbledore wasn’t certain about the Horcruxes until he got the memory from Professor Slughorn?"

"Yeah…but he always had his secrets," Harry replied, his brow furrowed.

Ginny shrugged. "Even if he suspected, that story proves it. You’ve been winning all along."

Harry looked at her doubtfully.

Ginny sighed, exasperated. "Harry, do you think you can believe in something that you’ve never seen before?"

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. "Ginny, I lived as Muggle for ten years before I was exposed to magic. I’d have to believe anything is possible after that, wouldn’t I? But Voldemort is still much stronger than me."

"But you do have something just as wondrous that he doesn’t — it’s your ability to love, and the people who love you," Ginny said, taking his shirt in her fists and shaking him slightly. "Don’t discount that. Dumbledore believed in you, I believe in you. You’re stronger than any bit of Tom ever could be.

"You’ve already beaten him if he’s been inside you all this time, and there is no trace. There was a trace with me, Harry. I have huge gaps in my memory that year, but I can remember walking outside, wondering why but doing it anyway. That was right before the roosters were killed. I went outside and then my memory just stops. You’re stronger than that. You’ve always been true to yourself, and he couldn’t bear to be inside you at the Department of Mysteries because you are so different from him. The piece of him that’s inside you hasn’t overtaken you, despite your tough childhood. Don’t underestimate the value of that strength."

"Ginny, you were strong; you were only eleven," Harry said adamantly.

Ginny waved her hand in the air. "I’m not saying I didn’t try to fight it eventually, but more than anyone else I know what you’re up against, and I can see from experience how different it is. Believe me, Harry."

"I’m trying," he whispered.

Ginny held him in silence for a few moments before saying, "When you tried to break up with me at the end of term, you said being with me was like something out of someone else’s life."

"It is," Harry said softly, not meeting her eyes.

Ginny grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "That was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. What we had…what we have…is wonderful and special and it makes my heart dance, but I know it’s the way things are supposed to be. It breaks my heart that you don’t think you deserve that. You’re going to win, Harry, and I’m going to spend the rest of our lives showing you how good things are supposed to be."

Harry looked up, startled. "You love me?" he asked, blinking.

Ginny’s face colored brightly, and her gaze looked everywhere but at him. "I’ve always loved you, Harry."

Harry’s spirit suddenly soared. "You have? Say it," he demanded.

Ginny giggled, embarrassed. When he continued to stare at her intently, he felt her tremble slightly before she whispered, "I love you, Harry."

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. "That feels good," he said, his voice muffled.

"What?" she asked, returning the embrace.

"Hearing those words."

Ginny sniffled against his chest.

He took a deep breath, inhaling that sweet flowery scent that always made him feel as if he was home. She’d shown her Gryffindor courage and done as he asked. It wouldn’t be fair of him not to offer her the same reassurance.

"I love you, too," he whispered into her shoulder, his body tense. He was surprised at how easily the words flowed once he’d decided to say them.

Ginny pulled back, blinking and biting her lip. Her eyes filled with moisture as they wandered over his face, as if trying to be certain she’d heard it.

"I love you, too," he repeated, more confidently now. It wasn’t hard to say at all.

Ginny’s grin spread across her face, making her eyes shine. She pulled him tighter to her and whispered, "Now, this house is pretty much empty. Even Mum went out with some of the Order to clean up an attack in Cornwall. I think there are other things we could be discussing besides Voldemort while they’re away, don’t you?

Harry grinned and pulled her onto his lap. Indeed, there were much pleasanter ways to spend the unsupervised afternoon.

**--**--

Several days later, Harry was scheduled to have another go at Occlumency with the Malfoys. Remus had gone on an assignment for the Order and was unable to attend. Alastor Moody had agreed to take his place. He arrived first and instantly pulled Harry aside.

"Afternoon, Potter. Before we start here today, I thought I’d pass on a friendly warning," Moody said gruffly.

"A warning?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Be careful what information you allow to be seen in these sessions. Constant vigilance, Potter. Not only against the Malfoys — never a lot to be trusted as far as I’m concerned — but also against any information you don’t want leaked to other sources," Moody replied.

"Other sources? Are you telling me the Malfoys are passing along information to the Order?" Harry asked, his anger rising. Even though he’d suspected it, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that swept over him.

"Kingsley always does what he believes to be the right thing. He tends to forget that he might not be the only one seeing the big picture — or might not be the one with all the facts. Narcissa will always do what suits her best. You’d do well to remember that," Moody said, his magical eye swirling towards the door.

A moment later, Draco Malfoy strolled down the hallway. He smirked when he saw Moody and Harry watching his approach.

"Good, you’re both here. My mother asked me to inform you that she won’t be able to attend today’s lesson," he drawled, sounding bored.

"What do you mean she’s unable to attend?" Moody snapped. "What’s she doing? Watching her hair grow?"

The color in Malfoy’s cheeks heightened slightly, but otherwise he showed no response. "She said she won’t be expected to make it a priority if others simply brush it off without a satisfactory explanation. If you people can’t give it the respect it is due, she certainly won’t either."

"Stupid, stuck-up woman," Moody muttered under his breath.

"Lupin couldn’t be here because of a situation with the war," Harry said through gritted teeth. "She does remember there’s a war going on, doesn’t she?"

"How could she forget?" Malfoy asked, sneering. "It’s left us stuck here with you and your merry lot of bunglers."

"Stay here both of you," Moody barked. "I’ll go fetch her."

He left both boys on the landing as he stormed up the stairs towards the wing where Narcissa stayed.

"Oh, Mother will love that," Malfoy said, his lip twitching.

Despite his annoyance, Harry felt the corner of his mouth quirk as he envisioned the scene. When he and Malfoy realized how close they were to sharing a laugh, both quickly wiped the smiles from their faces and shoved their hands into their pockets, scowling.

"So, Potter, what’s so important about learning Occlumency, anyway? You’re obviously not very good at it," Malfoy asked.

Harry shrugged, averting his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore thought it was important. Do you think Moody will get your mother to come down?" Harry asked impatiently. If they weren’t going to have an Occlumency lesson, he had other things he’d rather do than stand around chatting with Malfoy.

"Not likely. Mother’s in a foul mood," Malfoy replied.

"What’s she upset about now?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy appeared thunderstruck. "What reason could she possibly have to be upset? I don’t know, Potter. Maybe those filthy Muggles you call relatives conditioned you to find being locked up acceptable, but I assure you, my mother and I do not," he sneered.

Harry inhaled sharply; it was the first time Malfoy had made any reference to what he’d seen of the Dursleys.

"Why do they hate you so much? I thought you were everyone’s golden child," Malfoy asked, his gray eyes puzzled.

"We’re not talking about the Dursleys," Harry snapped, feeling slightly unstrung. "We’re talking about your mother’s diva antics."

"My mother has been confined with your precious Order for months without even being allowed the simplest contact with my father. Her patience is wearing thin," Malfoy shot back.

"I wonder why? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact your father is a Death Eater and most likely would sell you out to his precious Dark Lord, does it?" Harry asked, scoffing. He was pleased to see Malfoy’s color fade slightly.

"My father would never betray my mother," Malfoy said in a low, dangerous voice.

"No? How about you? Would he turn you over to Voldemort, Malfoy? His own son," Harry asked. Malfoy cringed, a myriad of expressions crossing his face.

"You think you’re so tough tossing that name around, don’t you? He’s going to make you pay for it, you know," Malfoy said, recovering his poise.

"Oh. We’re back on this again, are we?" Harry asked in a bored voice.

"Yes. We are. In fact, we’ve never got off it. The Dark Lord is going to kill you, and where does that leave us? The Order will be effectively wiped out once they’ve lost their only hope, and my mother and I will be left like sitting ducks," Malfoy spat.

"You don’t know the Order at all if you think they’ll just roll over and let him do as he pleases, even without me," Harry replied softly.

"But it won’t matter, will it? You’re their precious Chosen One, right? Without you, they’re all lost…and you certainly don’t present much of a threat," Malfoy said.

"Time will tell," said Harry, fighting not to show any emotion. Despite the fact he agreed with the git’s assessment, he wasn’t about to let Malfoy know it.

"Oh, there’s an understatement. Bravo," Malfoy said, applauding.

Harry had grown weary of Malfoy’s taunts, and it didn’t appear that Moody was having any luck with Narcissa, either. "What is it you want, Malfoy? What does your mother expect from us?" Harry asked.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed as he stared intently at Harry. "I want to speak with my father."

"So write him a letter. I’m certain you could get Tonks to deliver it for you," Harry said, carelessly waving his hand.

"I can’t put anything into writing, you idiot. My father more than likely has orders to pass on anything he receives from us, and he can’t go against a direct order," Malfoy said.

"Can’t or won’t?" Harry asked belligerently.

"Can’t," Malfoy replied through clenched teeth. "I need to speak to him in person."

"Good luck," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"He doesn’t know he has an option — that my mother and I are alive. I’m certain he believes you’ve killed us," Malfoy said quietly.

Harry’s eyes widened. "We’re not the ones that go around killing people for sport," he said incredulously.

"Oh, get over yourself, Potter. We’re your enemies; he’d expect nothing less. Dumbledore knew that. He offered us an escape, and he included my father in that offer," Malfoy replied.

Harry’s mind raced. Malfoy’s request could prove the perfect cover that Harry needed to get into Azkaban. If Professor Dumbledore had made him the promise, the Order would feel obliged to keep it. It would suit Harry’s plans to check on Dung’s belongings if he could wrangle a way to go along.

"If I can convince the Order to allow you out to travel to Azkaban, I’m going with you."

"What? There’s no way you’re listening to a private conversation between my father and me," Malfoy said indignantly.

"Then you’re not going," Harry replied, shrugging.

Malfoy scowled, but after considering his options, he eventually nodded. "I suppose I don’t have a choice. Very well, you can accompany me."

"Gee, thanks, Malfoy. Will you wear your best dress robes for the occasion?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrow.

Malfoy flushed, turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Harry grinned. This might work out exactly the way he needed.

**--**--

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had carefully reviewed their plans about requesting the trip to Azkaban. Hermione thought it was a risky idea for both Harry and Malfoy and didn’t think the Order would allow it. Harry thought he could persuade some members easily than others. The obstacle was narrowing down his choices.

The opportunity presented itself approximately a week later when Tonks and Remus burst into the sitting room where the teens were gathered.

"We did it, Harry," Tonks said, grasping Remus’s robes after she tripped in the doorway. They hadn’t seen much of Tonks at all during the month of September. She was either stationed at Azkaban or recuperating from her visits there.

Remus deftly caught her, and they continued into the room as if nothing had happened. Harry and the others covered their grins.

"Did what?" Ron asked.

"You asked us if the Ministry had a way of locating someone and wanted us to track Octavius Crabbe and Busby Goyle. I haven’t spent a lot of time at the Ministry recently, but I was there tonight, and I finally located one of them," Tonks said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Only one?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I thought magical imprints could be traced. The Ministry must have ways of watching a certain person?"

"It’s not as simple as that. I’m looking for specific people, but any magic done in the vicinity where that person is will show up on the record. If they’re in a place like Diagon Alley…well, the numbers can be staggering. The only reason I found Octavius Crabbe so quickly is that he performed a spell in a Muggle area — a flame charm," Tonks replied.

"Where?" asked Harry, feeling an adrenaline rush beginning. He’d been cooped up too long and was eager to accomplish something.

"On a beach in Scotland. It’s very deserted this time of year, so I’m not certain what he’s doing there. Want to go take a look?" she asked.

Harry’s mind raced. He was certain it would be the same beach where he and Dumbledore had found the fake Horcrux, or at least above the rocky ledge where Tom Riddle had once lured two frightened children. Since autumn had begun, the weather was growing chillier. Harry imagined the beach was cold after nightfall, and Crabbe might forget Voldemort’s instructions about not using magic in favor of comfort.

"Yeah," he said. "Let’s go take a look and see what he’s doing."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny left with Remus and Tonks despite Mrs. Weasley’s worried face. Ginny kissed her on the cheek before Mr. Weasley wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder, and the two stood stoically as they watched their children depart.

The group Apparated to a spot on the roadside a fair distance from the rocky cliff. A crisp breeze blew, causing them to clench their jackets closer to their bodies. The smell of salty air greeted them as they glanced around, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness. Harry could hear the crashing of waves against the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff. The familiarity of the place, and the haunting memories of what had happened on his previous visit, sent a sharp pain through his heart.

He’d been here with Professor Dumbledore on the last night of his former headmaster’s life. He’d watched in awe as Dumbledore detected the hidden entrance below, and the magic surrounding it. He’d forced his mentor to drink poison because of a promise he’d hastily made when he’d been desperate to be allowed along on an adventure. Harry inhaled a deep breath of salty air. This time, he wouldn’t allow himself to be tricked.

Ginny must have sensed his inner turmoil, for she slipped her small hand into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He attempted to smile, but knew he’d failed miserably. Remus motioned for them to be quiet and to follow him as they moved down the road.

They hadn’t gone very far when Harry spotted Crabbe standing on the rocks beside a small campfire that was hovering in the air — and he wasn’t alone. Another man stood across from him, gesturing wildly at the fire.

Harry and the others cast Disillusionment Charms upon themselves and quietly crept closer towards the duo in order to hear what was being said. Harry couldn’t suppress a shudder as he glanced at the steep incline where he and Dumbledore had followed Riddle’s trail. It felt almost as if that had been another lifetime. Dumbledore had trusted him to bring him back to safety.

Harry shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on memories; he had a job to do.

"Did you have some information to pass along to me, or is your only purpose here to complain that I decided to keep warm, Ferguson?" Crabbe asked his cohort, sounding disgruntled.

He appeared as thickset and solid as Harry remembered, although he thought he might have grown pudgier around the middle since that fateful night in the graveyard.

Death Eaters must be eating well these days, Harry thought sourly.

The other man, Ferguson, was leaner than Crabbe, although still rather stout. He had a thin mustache that curled slightly at the end, perhaps thinking it made him appear aristocratic. Harry thought it made him look like a ponce.

"I was asked to tell you to keep your eyes open for any of the Parkinson birds. If they come to you seeking aid, you’re to detain them and call the Dark Lord immediately," Ferguson said, sounding as if he were repeating something he’d memorized.

"Parkinson? What’s Philip done to have the Dark Lord looking for his family?" Crabbe asked in a stunned whisper.

Ferguson shrugged, but lowered his voice and said, "Philip’s dead. His wife and kids have disappeared the same way the Malfoy bint and her brat did. Master believes one of them knows where the Malfoys are hiding."

Crabbe whistled through his teeth. "My Lord must be very unhappy with the recent run of traitors. Why do you suppose that is? D’you think the Potter kid-"

"I wouldn’t finish that thought if I were you," Ferguson said, glancing around nervously. "The Dark Lord always knows, and you wouldn’t want him to suspect that you’re questioning the loyalty of his servants."

"No! No. I mean, that’s not what I meant. The Dark Lord will discipline his servants, and soon all will call him Master," Crabbe said fervently.

"I still have to go and pass this information to Simmons. Mind your post and keep a lookout for any of the Parkinsons," Ferguson said. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the road without waiting for a response.

Remus motioned for the others to follow him, and he led them in the opposite direction from where Ferguson had departed. When they were far enough away from Crabbe to ensure that he couldn’t overhear them, Remus reversed the Disillusionment Charms.

"Parkinson? As in Pansy Parkinson?" Ginny asked immediately.

"Yes," Remus said, nodding. "Philip Parkinson is…was a Death Eater. Pansy and her older sister must be on the run. I vaguely remember both girls from when I taught at Hogwarts."

"We’d better get back to Headquarters and inform the rest of the Order," Tonks said, grimly compressing her lips.

"Yes," Remus replied. "Does any of this mean anything to you, Harry? Do you know why Octavius Crabbe is stationed here?"

Harry nodded. "I have an idea," he answered, avoiding the older man’s eyes. "Thanks for letting me know you’d found him, but he’s not the one I need. It’s Goyle that I have to find. Can you keep trying, Tonks?" Harry asked.

Tonks nodded, glancing hesitantly at Remus. "Of course. I wish I knew why, though."

Harry shifted his feet, hating lying to them. "I think he’s guarding something I need to find."

"Need to find in order to find You-Know-Who?" she asked.

"Something like that," Harry said, nodding. "Can you help me?"

"Of course. I’ll keep checking each time I go to the Ministry. I think Mad-Eye is trying to come up with some kind of tracking system, as well. It’s keeping him busy anyway," Tonks said, smiling. "Of course, the Ministry has tried to track You-Know-Who for years and never had any luck with it."

"I have one more request," Harry said.

"What’s that?" Remus asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Harry-" Hermione said, and he knew she would try and warn him off.

"Malfoy wants to make a trip to Azkaban to speak with his father," Harry said quickly. "It was something Dumbledore promised him that night on the Astronomy tower, and I’m going with him."

"And me," Ron said.

"And me," both Hermione and Ginny said, glaring at both Ron and Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We can’t all go."

"None of you are going," Remus said, raising his voice over the complaints of the other three. "Have you all gone mad? I don’t think any of you has any idea what Azkaban is really like. Whatever you’re imagining, the reality is ten times worse."

"Why does Draco want to see his father?" Tonks asked.

"Dumbledore promised Draco that he would protect Lucius when he got out of Azkaban if Draco switched sides. He wants to make certain his father knows he has a choice, and that Draco and his mother are okay. He says his father has orders to turn over anything in writing to Voldemort," Harry said. "I need to see the belongings that Dung had with him when he was arrested. I think he has something of mine. If you arrange a visit for me, we can bring Malfoy under the Invisibility Cloak."

"Invisibility Cloaks won’t work against Dementors," Ginny said, scowling. "There are still some there, and you’re not going alone, anyway."

"He can remove the Cloak once we’re inside," Harry said, ignoring the second half of her statement. "Since this was the last promise Dumbledore made, we have to honor it."

"I know we agreed to help you, Harry, but I don’t like this," Remus said. "I don’t think you’re prepared for how difficult Azkaban will be, for you especially."

Harry nodded. "Maybe you can help with that, then, but I need to do this, Remus. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important."

"Let me talk to Mad-Eye," Tonks said, watching Remus closely. "He has a knack for getting the others to agree to things they normally wouldn’t."

"Good enough," Harry said.

"For now, let’s go back," Remus said, nodding to each as they Disapparated.

**--**--

A fortnight later, Harry sat on a couch inside Regulus Black’s former bedroom flipping through an ancient book on the Dark Arts. Hermione had discovered the room while seeking a quiet place to read and had stumbled across a book partially sealed into the wall.

It described many hexes and curses so vile that they made Harry’s stomach churn just reading about them. But, hidden within the text of an entirely different matter was a small paragraph about Horcruxes and how they were made. The book was Romanian in origin — Ginny had recognized some of the writing as similar to things Charlie had sent her.

Hermione thought they should plan to leave for Romania posthaste to investigate any ties that Voldemort might have made there.

While Harry agreed it was a good lead in order to seek the remaining Horcrux, he was far more interested in finding a translation to the paragraph. He knew he could ask Charlie but didn’t want to involve him, if possible.

He glanced at his watch impatiently. Tomorrow was Halloween. It would mark the sixteenth anniversary of his parents’ death. It was also the day he was scheduled to go to Azkaban. He thought it strangely ironic.

Remus had given Malfoy and him the news several days ago at an Occlumency lesson. Malfoy appeared surprised but pleased and requested they keep the information from his mother. Harry wondered if anyone had told him about Pansy Parkinson but hadn’t brought it up with the blonde. He certainly had no fondness for the Slytherin girl — he remembered her as a bully, much the same as Malfoy — but no one deserved to be hunted like that.

Remus said Harry, Malfoy and Ron would accompany Tonks on her next trip to the prison. Kingsley had arranged the visit through Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour had been extremely eager to learn the details of Harry’s trip, and Harry suspected some Ministry interference before the day was through. Remus had told him that no more than one of his friends could accompany him, and Mrs. Weasley had absolutely forbidden Ginny from going to Azkaban. She’d tried to stop Ron too, but Mr. Weasley had gently reminded her that Ron was of age.

Harry had chosen Ron, which meant Hermione hadn’t spoken to either of them in days. Ron had made the mistake of telling Hermione not to be stupid, that of course he’d be the one to go with Harry. Harry would swear he saw icicles form on Ron’s eyebrows from the glare Hermione gave him. And Ginny wasn’t too pleased, either.

Aside from the fact he didn’t want to push Mrs. Weasley any further than she’d been pushed already, the masculine side of his brain did want to protect Ginny from Azkaban. He remembered that she’d had difficulty with Dementors herself and wanted to spare her if he could. Hermione had just been through a serious and harrowing injury, and Harry thought it was a good idea for her to avoid the Dementors, too, if possible.

Of course, the girls saw things differently, but his decision had been made. Ron was just as intent to protect Hermione as he was Ginny, and Harry wasn’t going alone, so their arguments didn’t hold merit. When it came right down to it, this was something he thought Ron could handle better than Hermione, anyway. She had a tendency to panic if things went wrong.

Harry closed his book and was about to head off to bed when the door opened, and Ginny slipped inside.

"Hi," she said, shuffling her feet and not looking at him.

"Hi," Harry replied, aware of the hope flaring in his heart. She’d had very little to say to him in the past few days, and he wasn’t very keen to go to Azkaban while she was cross with him.

"Tonks said you’re leaving early tomorrow," Ginny said.

"Yeah. We’re going on her regular shift."

Ginny took a deep breath and flung her arms around him, squeezing him tight. "You’re not forgiven for ditching me, but I wanted to wish you luck. I hope you find what we’re looking for, and I hope it’s not too bad for you there."

"It’ll be fine, Ginny. I’m sort of used to the Dementors now," Harry said, running his hands along her back. It felt so good to have her in his arms again. He didn’t know how he could miss something so much that he really hadn’t had all that long to begin with.

"Quit being noble, Harry. No one ever gets used to Dementors. Just stay with Ron and no heroics," Ginny said, holding his face between her hands.

Harry pulled a face. "I’ll be okay, Ginny. If we find it, I’ll bring it back so we can figure out how to destroy it safely."

"You won’t be able to bring your wand inside, so a Patronus isn’t possible," Ginny said, worry evident in her eyes.

"I know. But Tonks will have her wand, and we’ll stay with her the whole time. Don’t worry, Ginny," he said, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. It cheered his heart to see the concern shining in her warm brown eyes — concern for him. It was still such a novel concept to realize how much she cared about him. He enjoyed the way it made him feel inside and hoped he made her feel a bit like that, too.

Ginny leaned in and kissed him soundly on the lips, making Harry forget all about Dementors and prisons and everything else. In fact, he wasn’t thinking of anything but the slip of a girl in his arms and how soft her skin felt beneath his hands.

Although they’d promised each other not to get carried away, they were still teenagers and prone to all the raging hormones that went along with their ages. Their hands would roam curiously, and several articles of clothing had inexplicably gone missing on several occasions. Still, despite their minor slips, they’d managed to keep themselves in a reasonable semblance of control. The idea had crossed his mind however, that he didn’t know if those checks would remain in place the next time they were out on their own and away from the prying eyes of Ginny’s family.

"Good luck," Ginny whispered when she finally pulled away. Her hair was disheveled, and she wore a slightly dazed expression.

Harry just wanted to get back to the kissing. He nodded fervently and pulled her back into his arms, feeling as if there was no way even a Dementor could dampen his spirits.