APRIL 7, 1996 – Hogwarts and Wool's Orphanage

Harry had been relieved when Dumbledore had discovered what had been truly going on about the blood quills, and had subsequently sacked Umbridge with the full support of the Wizengamot at large, leading to Minister Fudge's rather hasty resignation, for the Wizengamot had revealed that all of Umbridge's actions were happening, and approved, under his watch. In the aftermath, Harry had stood before them and, while testifying, had managed to bring up the blood wards and what the Dursleys had put him through—forcing him to live in a cupboard, starving him, making him do all the chores around the house and resorting to kidnapping him before his first-year at Hogwarts to ensure he would never attend the school.

The Wizengamot, who had now also discovered the Fudge and Umbridge had sent the Dementors themselves to Little Whinging, in an effort to keep Harry quiet about Voldemort's return, and potentially get rid of him in the process, opened an investigation about the Dursleys and, in one fell swoop, got Aurors to track down Peter Pettigrew and sentence him to life in Azkaban for his betrayal of Lily and James Potter, thus enabling Sirius to have guardianship of Harry. In the meanwhile, Remus had returned to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of term, and potentially beyond, now that thing were looking up for werewolves in the interim. Remus was also able to apologize for his lack of action towards Severus, and the pair had formed a truce, with Remus even ordering Sirius, at wandpoint, to apologize to Severus, who did so, and the trio actually began getting along.

Harry, meanwhile, after testifying, had been summoned to Dumbledore's office, on Friday evening after dinner in the Great Hall. He was a bit reluctant to go, because of Dumbledore ignoring him virtually all year, but decided to swallow any insecurities he was having and made his way up the spiraling staircase. Stepping inside and nodding to the headmaster, Harry ventured towards Fawkes, who chirruped in greeting, and dipped his head, permitting Harry to gently pet his plumage.

"Lemon drop, Harry?"

Harry finished greeting Fawkes before turning to face the headmaster. "No, thank you, sir," he replied, moving to sit down once gestured to do so.

"With the Easter holidays fast approaching, my boy, I'm sure you're plenty excited to stay at Grimmauld Place," the headmaster said.

Harry nodded. "I am."

"The Dursleys will stand before the Wizengamot during the summer holidays, along with their son, Dudley," Dumbledore went on, and Harry raised his eyebrows. "Their guardianship of you was officially terminated early this morning."

Harry clasped his hands together. "And what does that mean, sir?"

"Well, given that Sirius's application had been filed previously, and he has been officially pardoned of any wrongdoing, including his escape from Azkaban, he is officially your guardian until you reach the age of seventeen," Dumbledore continued. "This means that you will spend all your school holidays—unless given permission by Sirius to spend it elsewhere, such as the Burrow—with Sirius at Grimmauld Place."

Harry sat back in his chair, his mind running a mile a minute. "That... That's great, sir," he said, his voice positively trembling with excitement.

Dumbledore gave him a small smile, before he sighed. "I put you in so much danger this year, Harry, as well as last year, and I cannot apologize enough for it," he said quietly. "Not to mention the ill treatment you received at the hands of your relatives."

Harry sighed. "I lived, didn't I?"

"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged, before straightening up in his chair. "I wanted you to be the first to know, after the Board of Governors, the Wizengamot, and Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape that I am going to announce my resignation from my headmaster position at the leaving feast for the Easter holidays."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But, sir—"

"Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, yet not unkindly, as he raised his hand, "there is more reason for me to resign, in addition for my failure to report abuse of a student happening right under my nose."

Harry swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "What, then?" he asked.

"Do you recall when Umbridge managed to drive me off school grounds for those weeks, in the wake of Dumbledore's Army becoming known to everyone?"

Harry lowered his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Now, I don't want you blaming yourself, Harry," Dumbledore informed him, before he went on, "because Fawkes and I went to go and see an old friend and colleague of mine."

Harry blinked, looking up at the old man. "Who, sir?"

"His name is Horace Slughorn, and he was the potions professor and Head of Slytherin House before Professor Snape assumed the position," the headmaster explained. "You see, Harry, Horace had something rather precious I needed to know. Information, if you will. Information that would help us succeed in ending the war."

Harry perked up at that. "What was it, sir?" he wanted to know.

"A memory," Dumbledore said softly. "You see, my boy, Horace taught here many decades ago, during which time his favorite student was Tom Riddle."

Harry felt his teeth clench at the mention of Voldemort's original name. "Well, he was the Head of Slytherin," he muttered.

"Now, now, Harry," Dumbledore said, a slight warning note in his voice. "This memory was the pinnacle of Tom becoming a dark wizard."

Harry blinked. "How old was he in the memory, sir?"

"Around sixteen," Dumbledore responded. "You see, Horace would collect students he deemed to be valuable, and carries their photographs wherever he goes. For example, he is quite close with Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies."

"Sirius likes her," Harry joked.

Dumbledore smiled. "It certainly would be nice to see Sirius settle down," the man mused. "So, Tom was his favorite student, and Tom knew it. As such, Tom believed that Horace would be the perfect person to discuss a piece of rare magic with."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "A piece of rare magic? Like what?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It's called a Horcrux, Harry. Are you familiar with that?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I've only been in the Restricted Section once, and that was back in first-year, to get information about Nicholas Flamel."

Dumbledore smirked. "Wrong section, Harry."

"Well, I know that now," Harry whined. "What is a Horcrux, then, sir?"

"An object, in which a witch or wizard can place a piece of one's soul," Dumbledore said darkly, and Harry found himself shivering.

"You'd have to kill someone in order to do that, right, sir?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded at him. "Yes, my boy. It seems as though Tom decided to create seven such objects, and had already begun to do so before he left Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened. "Do you know what they are, or what they could be, sir?"

"You yourself have encountered one, Harry," Dumbledore informed him. "When you saved Ginny Weasley's life in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago."

"Tom Riddle's Diary?" Harry asked. "That was a Horcrux?"

"It was, Harry," Dumbledore responded, "and you were able to destroy it with Basilisk venom. I watched your memory of the ordeal once again after viewing Horace's memory, and was able to deduce the hissing sounds to the point where Severus and I were able to enter the chamber ourselves, and harvest the carcass of the beast."

Harry gaped, flabbergasted. "So, my stabbing the diary killed it, so to speak, sir?"

"It did, Harry. And Severus and I were able to find the Gaunt family ring, and it, too, was a Horcrux, before Severus and I killed it as well," he confirmed. "Severus even called at 12 Grimmauld Place, after a story he heard about Regulus Black before his dead. He talked to the elf there, Kreacher, who showed him a locket he was sworn to keep under his protection. Severus managed to kill it, before repairing it to make it look presentable, and returned it to the elf. It appears as though Kreacher now very much likes Severus now."

"Surely, there are more than that," Harry put in.

"Yes, it appears as though Tom wished to create seven," Dumbledore continued. "Using Polyjuice, Severus managed to get into the Lestrange vault, impersonating Narcissa Malfoy, and discovered one lying in wait there as well. It was a cup, once owned by Helga Hufflepuff, which Tom obtained by murdering Hepzibah Smith some time ago."

Harry grimaced, hating the notion of murder in order to make oneself immortal. "Tom was in an orphanage, wasn't he?" he asked quietly, and Dumbledore perked up at that. "I saw a vision of it earlier this year... Wool's?" he asked tentatively.

Dumbledore nodded, appearing quite eager. "I visited Tom before he came to Hogwarts there, in the 1940s," he said, shaking his head at how long ago it seemed. "I have not been there since then, and I heard recently that it's to be demolished next year in order to make way for a new block of offices."

Harry's eyes widened. "What if he left a Horcrux there, sir?"

Dumbledore promptly got to his feet. "Take my arm, Harry," he ordered, and Harry rushed around the desk, moving to take it. "Fawkes," the headmaster said, and the phoenix flew forward, calling beautifully, and clasped his talons onto Harry and Dumbledore's shoulders, before they burst into flames and left the office.

Harry landed, hard, in a dusty-looking area, which appeared to be a hallway. Getting his bearings as he struggled to his feet, his scar proceeded to prickle against his forehead. Not even bothering to look over at Dumbledore, Harry promptly stumbled in the direction of sibilant whispering, which echoed in his ears down the corridor. Harry charged forward to the end of the hallway, where a door stood open, and pushed on it. Inside the room was a rather sorry-looking iron-framed single bed with a lumpy mattress and pillow, as well as a thin woolen blanket, a wardrobe of splintered wood, and a small chair beside the window.

"Harry?" Dumbledore whispered from behind him.

Harry surged forward, upending the bed and mattress, which landed sideways with a clatter on the old wooden flooring. A floorboard was pitched up slightly, dead center where the bed had been, and Harry dropped to his knees. "Sir?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Lumos," he said, and his wand lit up in the shadows of the small bedroom, as Fawkes watched from the top of the wardrobe.

"Fawkes," Harry said, turning to regard the phoenix, "do you think you could pull up this floorboard with your talons, please?"

Fawkes trilled, happy to be of help, and fluttered down, concentrating on where Dumbledore's light beamed at the floor. Executing it perfectly, the phoenix curled his talons and flew downwards, gripping at the edge of the floorboard and yanking it upwards. The board splintered in two, and Fawkes returned to the top of the wardrobe, while Dumbledore shone the light of his wand into the hole the phoenix had made.

"Harry, hold onto this," Dumbledore said, handing his wand over to Harry, before he dove into the pocket of his robes, removing a pair of dragonhide gloves.

"Why've you got those, sir?" Harry asked, still aiming the wand into the hole.

"Because I foolishly attempted to pick up the ring with my bare hands," Dumbledore put in, putting the gloves on one at a time, before inching closer to the hole. "Severus now insists that I keep a pair on me at all times." Leaning forward, the headmaster motioned for Harry to lift the wand higher, and dipped his hand into the hole, feeling around for a moment, before he extracted a silver and green badge, with the faded words HEAD BOY etched onto it.

Harry gasped at that, listening to the whispers coming from the ornament Dumbledore held in front of them. "Sir..."

"No time, Harry," Dumbledore whispered back, wrapping up the badge in the gloves, putting a Protective Charm upon it, and returning it into his robes. "Take my arm, now, Harry," he said again, and, once Harry had done so, Fawkes trilled, flying downwards and taking ahold of both of them again, and vanishing them in a burst of flames.

Harry landed in the headmaster's office again, swaying slightly on his feet, watching as Fawkes returned to his perch and Dumbledore moved quickly towards the fireplace, a pinch of Floo Powder gripped tightly in his hand.

"Severus?" called the headmaster, and Harry whipped his head around, his heartbeat increasing at the thought of the potion's master.

"Headmaster?" came Professor Snape's voice from within the flames, concern laced within his tone. "Is everything all right?"

"There has been an urgent development," Dumbledore informed the man. "Come through to my office, please." Dumbledore stepped back and flashed a smile at Harry, who gave the headmaster a worried expression as the flames fluttered, and the Head of Slytherin stepped through, glaring over at Harry before turning to regard Dumbledore.

"What has happened?" the potions professor asked.

Dumbledore reached into his pocket, taking out the wad of dragonhide gloves. "Thanks to a hunch of Harry's, we were able to obtain this."

Professor Snape dove into his own pockets, snapping on a pair of dragonhide gloves of his own—black ones, Harry noticed—and took what the headmaster was offering him. "A Head Boys' badge?" he asked.

"Tom's Head Boy badge," Dumbledore informed the man. "Harry suggested we take a look-see at the orphanage. His suggestion proved fruitful."

Professor Snape's gaze snapped upwards to Harry's. "Well, Potter. Perhaps you are not completely hopeless after all—"

"I'm sorry!" Harry burst out then, and Dumbledore turned to look at Harry, while Professor Snape appeared shocked. "I know I shouldn't have looked into your pensive, and I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry! I don't expect you to forgive me, or have me back for Occlumency lessons, but please understand that I'm very upset with my dad, plus Sirius and Remus, for what they did to you and put you through! I'm just so sorry..." Harry cried out, before covering his face with his hands and weeping.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked the man in the silence that followed. "Are you honestly going to not help Harry shield his mind from Tom because of a mistake?"

"Albus..." Professor Snape growled.

"Well, perhaps this should be settled between the two of you," Dumbledore proclaimed, and turned back to his phoenix. "Fawkes? Fancy a walk around the grounds? Perhaps a small visit to Hagrid and Fang?"

Fawkes twittered with delight, and there was a sudden whoosh of warm air, and Harry figured that they had gone.

Harry slowly removed his hands from his face, staring up at the potions master through a veil of unshed tears. "I meant it, you know," he said softly, and the older man looked uncomfortable. "I was also going to say that it was unconscionable that the headmaster didn't seem to do anything as a proper punishment for them. And while I wish you hadn't called my mum that word, I can understand that being scared and angry makes us say ridiculous things sometimes. I think she should have listened to you, heard you out, instead of shutting you out. Again, I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I do know that I don't blame you for throwing me out. To have all your terrible memories shoved into the mind of someone you hate... Well," Harry said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You were right about my father, just so you know. I don't hate you for thinking the way you do, sir, but please know that I'm not my father. I couldn't imagine doing something like that to Malfoy, and I don't like him much. I can imagine screaming at him and casting Rictusempra on him, but that's where it ends. Anyway, I'm really very sorry, sir," he said, softer than before, and moved to leave the headmaster's office.

"Potter. Wait." Professor Snape's words seemed raw as Harry turned around to face the man, although Harry was tempted to turn tail and continue to hang his head in shame. Professor Snape looked up at Harry, and their eyes seemed to meet almost for the first time, vulnerability now on full display, and no longer clouded by hate. "I appreciate your apology, Potter, and I will forgive you for your mistake... And Albus is correct that you must learn to shield your mind against visions from the Dark Lord."

Tentatively, Harry took a step forward. "Are you volunteering, sir?"

Professor Snape sighed. "Against my better judgement, yes. I am the only one fully equipped to do so in this matter."

Harry nodded his head. "Would you be willing to recommend some books on the subject, sir, so that I might read up on Occlumency? I... I honestly wasn't prepared the last time, sir, as the lessons were sort of sprung on me..."

"Two come to mind, Potter," the potions master replied. "Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimency by Franciscus Fieldwake is one; the other is called Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett. With your permission, I will give my copies to Hedwig, and she can deliver them to Grimmauld Place during the Easter holidays, if that is of no objection to you."

Harry gave the man a small smile. "That will be fine, thank you, sir. I know that Hedwig likes you, so she'd be more than willing to help."

Professor Snape cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "How do you know your owl likes me?"

"Well, she listened to me when I told her to peck Ron and Hermione to write me back when I was still living at Privet Drive," Harry said quietly.

"Living is not the term I would use," the man said softly, shaking his head, and, to Harry's utter surprise, did not comment on Harry's supposed impatience to hear back from his friends. "Very well, I shall send the books to Grimmauld forthwith, unless there is an Order meeting during the holidays. I assume that Black will permit you to sit in."

Harry nodded his head. "We've discussed it, sir. Sirius says I can go."

"Well, I'm not about to say you're too young to know certain things, Potter. You're too young for any of this to begin with," the man said, before nodding his head and moving back towards the fireplace behind him.

"Sir?" Harry called out to him, and the professor hesitated, yet did not turn around. "You could call me 'Harry', you know."

Professor Snape scoffed. "Never in a million years, Potter," he replied, although there was no cutting bite to his voice as he tossed in the Floo Powder, uttered his destination of choice, and stepped into the swirl of green flames, although Harry was smiling.