Chapter Ten “ How To Destroy A Horcrux
Harry had Apparated to just outside the large wrought-iron gates that enclosed Hogwarts. Covered with the Invisibility Cloak, he took a look around. It was the dead of night, and everything was tranquil and stifling.
The autumn chill was moving in, and he clutched Luci’s cardigan to his chest, careful to keep the locket covered. He was still infuriated at her, even with her cotton candy aroma bombarding his senses. He hissed angrily. Why did she get to him this way? Why couldn’t she just be honest with him? He’d been entirely honest with her.
The stone columns of the gates rose up in front of Harry, topped with their winged boars. He put a hand to the gate and pushed. It opened easily. He looked down gratefully at the medallion around his neck.
He began the long walk up the sloping drive that led to the castle. After awhile, the turrets and towers were drawing nearer, and he was able to see that there were very few lights on in the windows.
Soon, he reached the steps that led up to the giant oak front doors. He pulled them open quietly and stepped into the large entrance hall, where the torchlight glowed eerily over the marble staircase before him. He started up it, as silently as he could, and headed for the headmaster’s office, which was located in a tower by itself. He slid the Cloak from his body and stuffed it into his pocket as he went.
No sooner had he done this then, halfway up the landing, and to his immense dismay, he encountered Peeves.
“Potty!” shrieked the poltergeist.
“Shut up,” Harry snarled.
“Where’ve you been, Potter, you rotter?”
“Leave me alone.”
Peeves blew a raspberry. “Boring here without you, you know.”
“I imagine,” sighed Harry.
“But your two little friends haven’t missed you,” said Peeves conspiratorially.
Harry looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”
Peeves cackled loudly and did a somersault in the air.
“Oh, just go away,” Harry groaned.
He cursed himself for having removed his Cloak and continued on his way.
Peeves sidled along beside him. “Nasty mood you’re in, Potty.”
“I said, sod off!”
Peeves hooted in amusement and floated off in the opposite direction. Harry could hear the horrible giggles growing fainter as he walked.
Finally, he reached the office, where the stone gargoyle stood just as he remembered it. He quickly searched it for some kind of keyhole, but found nothing.
Then, Harry heard a reproachful mewing.
He looked down to see Mrs. Norris, who gave him a suspicious glance, before trotting dutifully in the direction of Filch’s office.
Harry had to get through the entrance, as quickly as possible, before Filch found him here. He took the key from his pocket and held it up to the gargoyle, searching for the lock. He ran it along the cold stone surface and, to his surprise, the mouth of the statue opened slowly, emitting a scarlet glow.
Harry forced the key into the mouth and turned it clockwise. The gargoyle leapt aside. He then retrieved the key again and watched the wall that had stood behind the statue split in two and reveal the familiar spiral staircase. Harry mounted it quickly and it began to rotate upwards as the entrance closed behind him. He exhaled in relief.
When he reached the oak door, bearing the griffin knocker, he heard voices coming from the room. He pressed his ear to the wood but couldn’t make out any distinct words.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the large circular room. Someone had been in the fireplace, but the person disappeared at the sight of the new arrival.
“Hello, Harry,” said Dumbledore’s portrait.
Harry’s heart lurched in his chest at the sound of the voice that had always been such a comfort to him, the voice that he thought he’d never hear again. The fact that a remnant of a person lived on in his or her portrait had slipped his mind, even though he’d seen Dumbledore sleeping in his frame just after his death.
The portrait’s face was illuminated by the candlelight in the room. Dumbledore looked rested, something that Harry had rarely seen in the wizard. Death had agreed with him. He was so happy to see that face and hear that voice that Harry was literally quivering with… What was it? Relief?
“Professor, I’m sorry it took me so long… I didn’t find the letter until “ ”
Dumbledore’s portrait waved its hand casually. “You are here now, and that’s what matters.” Then, gesturing towards the chair before the desk, he continued, “Sit down.”
Harry did as he was told. He found himself pretending that Dumbledore had never died at all and that this was just another night of uncovering mysteries, with the headmaster as his guide. His body relaxed in a way that it hadn’t for a very long time. He looked around the room and noticed that all of the strange silver instruments had vanished, though the Sorting Hat still sat before him, on a shelf behind the desk.
“Minerva is in her quarters upstairs, so we must remember to keep our voices low,” Dumbledore said, reminding Harry that the previous headmaster was, indeed, dead after all.
“Sir, who was in the fire?” he asked.
Dumbledore’s portrait smiled furtively, responding, “Nevermind that. I understand that you have found another Horcrux?”
“Two more,” Harry nodded.
“Oh?”
“Ravenclaw’s wings, did Mad-Eye Moody bring them to you?”
Dumbledore continued to smile. “He took care of them himself, I believe, but I heard that they were returned to the case from which they’d been missing for decades, with no explanation. This means that you didn’t keep the matter of the Horcruxes to yourself, Harry.”
“He found the wings and knew what they were,” Harry explained. “I didn’t tell him.”
Dumbledore’s portrait shook its head. “No, but you did tell someone else.”
Harry swallowed. How did Dumbledore know that he’d discussed this with Luci? Had she been back to the headmaster’s office to inform him? Did this count as a betrayal of Harry’s confidence?
“I… I shouldn’t have…” he faltered.
The old wizard smiled knowingly. “Do you like her?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” replied Harry, who tried, in vain, to keep from blushing.
With a wink, Dumbledore said, “I thought you might.”
Frowning, Harry asked, “Can I trust her?”
The portrait looked thoughtfully at Harry. “I trusted Severus, and you refused to join me in that, so would it be any different with Miss Keegan?”
“It is different.”
“How so?” asked Dumbledore.
“Snape is “”
“Professor Snape.”
“He’s not a professor anymore,” replied Harry angrily, and then he continued, “Snape is a murderer. You were wrong about him. Can’t you admit that now?”
Dumbledore nodded curtly, and then asked, “What is the second?”
Harry, who was happy for the change of subject, however sudden, pushed back his temper. He placed Luci’s sweater on the table before him and unwrapped the locket.
Dumbledore’s portrait watched silently, patiently. Then, upon seeing the necklace, it looked at Harry in confusion.
“This is the Horcrux that we retrieved from the cave, is it not?”
Harry shook his head. “No, the real Horcrux was taken by someone with the initials R.A.B. and replaced with a fake. For some reason, Kreacher had this and Dobby won it from him and… here it is.”
“Regulus got there first then,” said Dumbledore, almost to himself.
“Sirius’s brother?” asked Harry in bewilderment. “Sirius’s brother is R.A.B.?”
Regulus Arcturus Black, Harry’s brain reminded him. He had seen the portrait in Sirius’s old room at Grimmauld Place. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I would say so. It would explain why Kreacher would have such a valuable item. I think, perhaps, that you should visit the kitchens and speak with him.”
“That’s on the list,” agreed Harry. “And the Chamber of Secrets.”
“Best to take Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger along,” suggested Dumbledore.
Harry nodded.
“Now, about this,” the portrait gestured. “You cannot touch it?”
“No. They’ve both burned me.”
Dumbledore tilted his head. “Ah.” He looked contemplatively at the locket for a long while. Finally, he said, “I suppose it’s best to try some revealing spells first. There will be a vast amount of dark magic protecting this item, and we don’t want your hand to end up like mine.” He held up his charred hand, grinning.
Harry, who didn’t find Dumbledore’s shriveled hand the least bit amusing, brandished his wand readily.
“Now, I want you to perform the spell and then step back as quickly as you can,” instructed Dumbledore’s portrait. “We cannot be sure what protection the locket may hold.”
Harry nodded obediently, saying, “Aperio,” and flinging his body abruptly backwards.
The locket lit itself on fire, quickly burning through Luci’s cardigan.
“Aguamenti,” said Harry quickly, putting out the flames. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
Dumbledore clicked his tongue musingly. “I’m afraid that is only the beginning.”
“How do we remove the spells so that we can destroy it?” Harry inquired.
“It is a complicated process… but it is necessary in order to protect you when you perform the final destructive spell. First, we must determine every curse that protects it. Then we must remove each of them, one by one.”
Harry sighed. “Fantastic.”
“All is not lost,” smiled Dumbledore. “It is merely a time-consuming procedure.”
Nodding, Harry repeated, “Aperio,” unenthusiastically.
A black cloud emerged from the locket, which remained sealed despite this, and quickly began to fill the room.
“Clypeus,” chanted Harry instinctively, pointing his wand at himself. Miraculously, a large bubble enclosed around his body. The black smoke was everywhere now, swirling about outside of his shield. Harry watched it, wondering how he was going to get rid of it, and what it was doing to everything around him. Before he’d had to come up with something, however, the fumes were sucked back into the locket, as if it were a vacuum.
Harry removed the Clypeus charm, asking the portrait, “What was that?”
“Poisonous gas, I’m sure,” replied Dumbledore. “I see you’ve learned some new tricks.”
Harry nodded but did not elaborate.
“Let’s continue.”
Harry executed the revealing spell again. Oddly, the locket burst into flames once more. He doused the fire and looked questioningly at Dumbledore’s portrait.
“Curious,” said the wizard, eyeing the necklace skeptically.
“What?” Harry asked.
“It wouldn’t repeat a curse it had already divulged. It would go through the lot and then begin again.”
Harry frowned. “So there are only two curses on it?”
“It would seem so,” replied Dumbledore quietly. “Which would mean that Regulus removed the others but was unable to complete the cleansing.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Harry, encouraged.
“I suppose we can begin the removal process,” agreed Dumbledore after a few moments of deliberation. “The incantation for this would be Purgatio, followed by the name of the curse - for the flames, Incendio, and for the poison, Toxicem.
Harry raised his wand, beginning with, “Purgatio Incendio.”
All of a sudden, he was flung powerfully into the wall behind him. This knocked the breath out of him and caused him to black out for a brief spell. Getting slowly to his feet, Harry groaned.
“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore said to himself, running a hand thoughtfully along the length of his beard.
Harry was still heaving for air.
The portrait shook its head. “It did seem too easy…”
“Professor,” breathed Harry. “What now?”
“I’m not sure, Harry. It would appear that there are curses that we cannot eradicate. Yet, if you were to try to destroy the Horcrux without removing them, I fear that it would cause you great harm.”
“I don’t have a choice though, do I?”
Dumbledore’s portrait eyed Harry intently for a moment. Finally, he replied, “There is something I’d like for you to see. While you are gone, I can ponder this matter.”
“Gone?” asked Harry.
“Would you retrieve the Pensieve, please?”
Curious, and knowing that Dumbledore intended to show him a memory, Harry went to the black cabinet that held the Pensieve. He noticed then that Fawkes’s golden perch, which once stood beside the cabinet, was now gone. This, somehow, weighted his heart and his body felt heavier as he brought the Pensieve to the desk, but did not lighten even when he’d put the basin down again. He ran a finger along the runes that were carved upon the edges.
“Now, Harry, I can see that you are carrying an enormous load of guilt and anger, and I hope that this little trip will relieve you of a bit of it.”
Harry looked up at the portrait, feeling very transparent all of the sudden. He wanted nothing more than to be relieved of his burdens, but he knew that this relief would never come. The reality of it made him want to throw things. He took a deep breath, staring down into the silver liquid of the Pensieve.
“Sir, I don’t think anything can make it go away.”
Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Well, at the very least, the Pensieve can answer some of your questions.”
“Questions?” asked Harry.
“Professor Lupin informed me that you had some inquiries about your mother,” answered the portrait.
There was a horrible whirling in Harry’s gut at the returning thought of his mum with Snape.
“Fortunately, he left a memory with me that may shed some light on your troubles.”
Harry frowned. “Why wouldn’t he tell me himself?”
“I think it’s very important,” began Dumbledore, “To see this for yourself.”
Harry nodded.
“Go ahead,” encouraged the portrait, gesturing towards the Pensieve.
Harry took a deep breath and plunged his face into the swirling clouds. He felt his body falling through emptiness before he landed on his feet in a dark hallway. There was a shallow breathing next to him and Harry turned to see a 15-year-old Lupin at his side. They were still at Hogwarts, in the familiar corridor that led to the Gryffindor common room. Lupin was watching something intently. Harry followed his gaze and realized that soft voices could be heard a few feet from the pair of them.
A small redheaded girl stood next to a skinny boy with greasy black hair.
“Lily, please,” the boy was pleading.
Harry gasped. He left his place near Lupin and stepped closer to his mother and Snape.
“Stop it, Severus!” hissed Lily. “You can’t treat me like dragon dung all year and then expect me to still want to be your friend!”
“I’m sorry!” whimpered Snape.
“Are you?” she barked. “You put on a show for James Potter and his friends, pretending that you’re not hurt by them, but I know you. You’re sensitive, and guess what? So am I. So when you call me a Mudblood in front of half the school, it hurts, Sev.”
Snape looked as if he might cry. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It doesn’t matter. You said it.”
Snape stepped closer to Lily, their faces only a few inches apart. Lily’s eyes were angry, but Snape’s were nothing but gentle. Harry’s stomach turned as he watched. It was like a horrible car crash “ it disgusted him, but he couldn’t turn away.
“If you know that I don’t mean it, why are you so angry?” asked Snape softly.
“It’s the principle of it, Severus. It’s like you can’t bear the thought of people knowing that we’re friends. Then, we’re alone, and you’re… different. I find that pretty insulting.”
“Friends?”
Lily frowned. “Of course.”
Snape shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “A person has to protect himself in whatever way he knows.”
“But you act like you have to protect yourself from me!” huffed Lily.
He studied her face, replying, “I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m more vulnerable to you than I am to James Potter,” said Snape uncomfortably.
Lily narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
Before Harry could blink, Snape was kissing his mother. He was going to throw up. He just knew it.
Then, Lily was shoving him away. “I can’t…”
Snape eyed her, visibly wounded. “Now who’s ashamed?”
“It’s not that… How dare you just…?” Lily took a deep breath.
“I…” he began, but stopped.
She glared at him and then began to march away.
He called after her, anger and humiliation practically emitting in rays from his body, “You really are a Mudblood, aren’t you, Evans?”
Lily stopped in her tracks, but she didn’t turn to face him.
Finally, she snarled, “Don’t ever speak to me again,” and continued towards her common room.
Harry would never forget the expression that he witnessed on Snape’s face at that moment. It was a look of absolute heartbreak. The boy stood there for a few minutes before slowly leaving the corridor.
Glancing over at Lupin, Harry saw that he was cowering in the shadows, so as not to be seen. When Snape was gone, Lupin, too, headed purposefully for the Gryffindor common room.
Harry followed him, but on their way, he was pulled from the scene, falling again through space. This time, he landed back in the headmaster’s office. At first, he thought that the experience was over, but then he saw Dumbledore, alive and well, sitting behind his desk, absorbed in his reading.
“Professor?” asked Harry, but Dumbledore did not look up. Harry noticed that he was quite a bit younger. He must be in a new memory. Another of Lupin’s?
Then someone burst through the oak door and into the office.
“Professor!” cried a frantic voice.
“I’m sorry, Albus,” said Professor McGonagall, who had followed Snape into the room. “He was absolutely insistent. I know it’s late…”
Dumbledore stood calmly. “Thank you, Minerva.”
She nodded hesitantly before leaving the room again.
“Professor!” bellowed Snape once more, when she had gone.
“What is it, Severus?” asked Dumbledore, peering curiously at him from beneath his half-moon spectacles.
“The Dark Lord!” he said breathlessly. “He’s… Lily and James Potter! He intends to kill their first born!”
The headmaster stood staring at Snape, who was panting, for a few moments. Finally, he replied, “You are a known Death Eater, Severus. How am I to know that you’re telling me the truth?”
To Harry’s enormous shock, tears began to pour down Snape’s face. “Please,” he sniveled. “You can’t let him hurt Lily! I’ll do anything! You have to help me!”
Dumbledore appeared calm, but Harry could tell that he was just as stunned by this confession.
“First, we must warn the Potters,” he said.
“Yes,” Snape agreed, sniffling. “Yes, they have to run. If something happens to her…”
He stopped, and Dumbledore prodded, “Yes?”
“It’s all my fault!” Snape bawled. “I heard… something… and it could be nothing, but I told the Dark Lord and now he’s decided he has to kill this boy and if I’d known that it was Lily’s boy, I never would have… It’s all my fault and we… you… you have to help me protect her!”
Dumbledore was listening quietly. Harry was gaping, as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Snape hastily pulled up his left sleeve and began scratching at his Dark Mark, shredding the skin, causing blood to drip languidly onto the floor at his feet. He was grunting angrily, resolutely.
“Stop it, Severus!” Dumbledore ordered suddenly.
It was the same thing that Lily had said to him. Harry suddenly realized that this was not the cool, enigmatic Snape that he knew. The boy standing before him was not much older than he had been when he’d passionately kissed Lily Evans, and now, he was petrified, completely incapable of concealing his emotions.
Snape had ceased tearing at his skin instantly at the headmaster’s command.
“We will keep her safe,” Dumbledore was saying reassuringly. Then he glanced at Snape’s forearm and continued, “The Mark is permanent but the way of life is not.”
Snape inhaled slowly, cleared his throat, and then recovered his arm.
“I’ll do anything,” he said again, miserably.
“I can see that,” responded Dumbledore. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to send an urgent owl.”
“What can I do?” Snape asked.
“This is enough for one night.”
“But…” began Snape. “I can’t go back to the Death Eaters.”
Dumbledore paused. “No, I suppose not. Well, you will just have to stay here. You were always rather good at Potions, weren’t you?”
Snape nodded, a brief look of pain flashing over his face.
This was the moment when Harry was jerked abruptly from the room, only to appear there once more, just a few seconds later. He pulled his face from the Pensieve and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
“Learn anything new?” asked Dumbledore’s portrait casually.
Harry gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he seethed, “But I think I’m angrier now than when we started.”
“Are you?” the portrait inquired in surprise.
“Of course, I am! Snape claimed to love my mum but he’s the reason she’s dead!”
Dumbledore blinked before responding, “I think we can agree that he is only part of the reason. He has shown great remorse for his mistakes, as you can see, and will carry the grief for the rest of his life.”
“Snape will carry the grief? What about me? I'm the one stuck with the real grief! He probably wasn’t even truly sorry! It was probably all an act!” Harry’s ears were hot and he felt as if acid were boiling inside of him, ready to spew out at any moment.
“Professor Snape was an excellent Occlumens, even then” said Dumbledore calmly. “Yet, that night, he made no attempt to shield his thoughts from me. He was truly sorry, and will remain so for all of his days.”
Harry was so overcome with fury that he wasn’t sure what to say to this. He didn’t believe it, and he would never trust Snape, the man responsible for his parents’ deaths. He flung himself despondently into the chair in front of the desk.
“Harry, do you still not see why I trusted Professor Snape?”
Harry glared up at the portrait. “He killed you! Or have you forgotten? You’re stuck in that stupid frame, because of Snape!”
Before Dumbledore could react to this outburst, there was a loud crackling in the fire and Harry looked up to see Tonks standing before them. He got to his feet in surprise.
“We did it!” she chimed. Then, “Harry!”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“How did you get in here?” asked Tonks.
“You’ve finished it?” Dumbledore’s portrait interrupted.
“Yes, though I still don’t know why you need this,” replied Tonks hesitantly.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“Wonderfluff!” she answered brightly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Wonderfluff,” she repeated. “It’s a purifying agent. Remus and I have been working on it for months!”
Harry remembered Lupin clearing the kitchen table when he had come to ask about his mum.
“Purifying agent?” he repeated.
“I think Harry will be needing some of that,” suggested Dumbledore.
“What on earth for?” asked Tonks.
“The reason is inconsequential at this point,” replied the portrait.
Uncertainly, Tonks handed a small vial to Harry. It was filled with glittery, silver powder, as if someone had bottled a finely ground piece of the moon. Harry thought that it was magnificent. He found himself wanting to show it to Luci, knowing that she would appreciate its beauty.
He’d only just noticed that the sun had risen. It was early morning now, and Harry felt a glimmer of excitement at the thought that Ron and Hermione would be up soon, and he would at least be able to share the Wonderfluff with the pair of them.
“That will be all,” Dumbledore was saying to Tonks.
“But… I…” She looked a bit put out.
The portrait smiled warmly at her. “All will be explained in time. I am very grateful for this.”
“OK… I’ll be going then…” Tonks stepped slowly back into the fire, looked questioningly at Dumbledore’s portrait once more, and disappeared.
“What does it do?” Harry asked immediately.
“It’s exactly what we need!” answered Dumbledore cheerily.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Tap out a bit onto the locket,” Dumbledore advised, as Harry obeyed, pulling the cork from the vial and tipping it over the necklace.
“Careful not to touch it,” continued the portrait. “It’ll strip your skin, much like the Muggle substance by the name of bleach.”
Harry carefully shook out a bit of the silvery powder and took a step back, resealing the bottle.
The locket quivered slightly but nothing significant happened.
“I’m afraid, Harry, that perhaps you will need to empty the bottle,” suggested Dumbledore.
Disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to take any of the Wonderfluff with him, Harry begrudgingly emptied the vial onto the necklace, which immediately began to rattle upon the desk, as if it was very angry. Harry heard a faint sizzling noise coming from it. After a few seconds, it ceased and remained still again.
“Do you think that worked?”
“Let’s see,” replied the portrait.
“Aperio.”
The Horcrux remained motionless.
“I think that we can destroy the soul now,” said Dumbledore.
“Are you sure?” asked Harry uncertainly.
“Quite,” Dumbledore nodded.
“And how do I do that?”
“That would be a very difficult spell by the incantation of Sepelio,” he replied. “I have every reason to believe that you will have no difficulty performing it accurately.”
Harry sighed. “Don’t be so sure.”
“Oh, but I am,” smiled Dumbledore’s portrait.
Harry returned the smile, instantly warmed and encouraged by Dumbledore’s continued faith in him. He raised his wand confidently and chanted, “Sepelio!”
The locket flew into the air, shattered, and came crashing back down onto the remnants of Luci’s sweater, making a soft thudding noise as it met the desk beneath the cotton. A black, swirling cloud emerged from the now-open locket, rising into the air before Harry, and then disintegrating into a million tiny particles.
Harry exhaled, feeling the oxygen slowly leave his chest, relaxing his body.
“Excellent work, Harry!” chimed Dumbledore proudly. “What does that leave? Two more?”
“Two more, yes,” agreed Harry.
“That would be Hufflepuff’s goblet and perhaps the snake, Nagini?”
“Perhaps…” Harry frowned. “But where is the real question. And how.”
“How?” asked Dumbledore. “There will be more of this purifying agent.”
“There will?”
“I’m sure,” nodded the portrait.
Harry sighed. “It isn’t the real problem anyway.”
“What is the real problem?”
“Hopelessness. Discouragement. Self-doubt.” He had never said these things aloud.
“For what reason?” Dumbledore inquired. “Have you not proven your ability to yourself?”
“It comes and goes,” replied Harry.
“Perhaps because you do not fear your inadequacy, but your own power?”
“No, I fear my weakness,” Harry sighed.
“What would that be?” Dumbledore eyed Harry significantly. Then, “Ah, we speak of the same thing.”
Harry looked up curiously.
“Love is not your weakness, Harry. It is your power. I’ve tried to teach you this.”
Harry took a deep breath and shifted his weight uncomfortably. He should have never mentioned it.
“I don’t agree, sir,” he said simply. “Sometimes, it’s like I can’t see straight.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “You must not confuse love with anger, Harry. Love may cause anger, but it needn’t. That is a decision that you make.”
Harry sighed in defeat. Perhaps anger was his weakness. He was entirely unable to control it most of the time.
“Your temper will become easier to manage with time,” encouraged the portrait, as if reading his mind. “But time is a luxury that we do not have, I’m afraid. For now, you must focus on love. Let it be more powerful than anger. It will save you.”
Silent, due to the love currently surging mightily through him, Harry stared at his feet. He had needed this so badly. He wished that he could stay here with the portrait forever.
“Well, I believe that your fellow Gryffindors will be heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast shortly. Perhaps you should join them.”
Harry nodded and stepped towards the door.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Harry?”
“Can I trust her?”
Dumbledore smiled. “It was nice to see you, Harry.”
“Thank you, Professor, for… everything.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
The Progeny of the Pure-Blood by Sunny Christian
Chapter Notes: Harry learns what it takes to destroy a Horcrux and discovers that Snape really was capable of love.