The hustle and bustle of the Ministry had always fascinated him, and Ron sat in the atrium, watching people walk back and forth. But how much of it was business, and how much simply busyness? Having worked in the Ministry now for almost a year, Ron thought he was beginning to spot the difference.

The fireplaces to his left flashed green off and on as Ministry workers came and went, their busyness consuming an entire day. He'd just returned from a strange mission and couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it all. His bones ached and he felt the cold of the Dementors all the way through him. Just thinking about it made him shiver.

"Hey, mate!" Harry slid into the seat next to him, peering at Ron. "Alright?"

They'd been assigned to different Senior partners last week and were often split up in their duties throughout the day. But at least they were finished with most of the schooling part of their training. Both had just barely passed by the skin of their teeth.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "Azkaban."

Harry winced and shook his head slowly. "At least you're doing something. They've stuck me standing guard at Gringotts."

Ron wanted to feel bad for his friend, but he just couldn't work up the energy. Gringotts duty might be boring, but at least Harry didn't have to drain himself by casting a Patronus half a dozen times a day.

"Anything interesting?" Harry was always interested in the details of the jobs that Ron went on. He took a sort of sick pleasure in hearing the stories. It had always awed Ron and he hesitated, but found himself talking all the same.

"Remember hearing about Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry's forehead wrinkled and he rubbed at his scar, a habit that annoyed Ron. Harry said the scar never bothered him, but that he'd gotten used to touching it over the years and did so without thinking now. "Didn't he get chucked in Azkaban for breaking into houses, or something?"

Ron nodded. "Dozen years ago, or so. He's a complete loon. Gone round the twist. He claims that his son was kidnapped years ago and went crazy trying to find him. He was stalking Wizarding families, breaking into houses to look at their kids." He shook his head slowly, remembering the deranged eyes of the man dressed in nothing but rags, his blond hair filthy and tangled strings as it ran down his back.

"He's still just as crazy, all these years later."

"Wasn't there something about his wife?" Harry asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I remember hearing something when we were in school."

"That's probably the most tragic thing about the story. I don't know all the details, but I guess she took a load of potions, hoping to off herself. But it didn't work. She's locked away in St. Mungo's Permanent Ward now. Just goes on and on about her kid."

Harry shuddered and pushed his hair off his forehead. "Did they even have a kid?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Nobody knows what happened. He just disappeared one day when he was a baby, Malfoy claimed. Most people assumed he killed the kid, or there was some sort of accident or something. Don't think we'll ever know."

"And why did they have you talking to Malfoy? Does he know something about the war?"

Ron shook his head. "No. I was there for someone else. Malfoy just reached out through the bars as we passed, begged me to look for his son."

They both slipped into silence and watched as a group of workers passed by them, leading some strange creature down the hallway. Ron had never seen this beast before and wondered what it was, before shaking his head to clear it. Whatever it was, it had magical powers of some sort, because anyone who the group passed look slightly dazed.

"Gringotts still safe?"

Harry shook his head, as well, and blinked at Ron. "Er, yeah. Yeah."

"Dull duty, though." Even though Azkaban had not been pleasant, he wasn't sure he could handle standing in one place for hours at a time, watching nothing.

"Yeah, well, someone has to do it, they tell me. Ever since that bloke broke in last Spring…" Harry trailed off, a sort of smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Got to admire someone that can pull that off, thought, right? Nobody knows how he got in, nobody can figure how he escaped. But several vaults were breached…"

Ron remembered the story well. Everyone at the Ministry had been stunned speechless by the daring daylight robbery of Gringotts. "Still no word on what was stolen?"

Harry shook his head. "Goblins aren't saying a word."

"You think they're in on it?"

Harry's eyebrows lifted as he considered Ron's theory. "Some people think so. No clue if it's true. Would make sense, I suppose, but why say anything about it if they were? You'd think they'd keep it quiet and not demand Ministry protection."

"I suppose," Ron said, "unless only a few of them were in on it. Or even just one. Bill has a whole load of theories that he was talking about last time he was in town. He said it was nearly impossible to break in, and damned impossible to break out. Even he can't figure how it was done."

Harry shrugged and watched another group of workers pass, this time all witches. His eyes roamed over their robes intently. "Whatever happened, it's still dead dull."

Ron nudged his friend to get him to stop staring and just shook his head.

"We should go out this weekend," Harry suggested. "Get a pint, meet someone."

"Nah," Ron drawled. The idea of just climbing into his bed sounded better.

"Is your sister around?"

Ron couldn't help but smirk. Harry's interest in Ginny was no secret among anyone. He'd watched her all through school, despite Ron's attempts to curb his interest. Ginny had been taken with the idea of Harry, but her crush had faded when she'd gotten to know him. She'd gotten very good at what she called "evasive maneuvers" over the years to escape Harry's interested looks and advances.

"She doesn't like you," Ron pointed out once more.

"What's not to like?" Harry said with a smirk. "I'm the Boy Who Lived."

"That right there's probably a good hint," Ron said as he stood and began to walk away.

"I was kidding!" Harry called as Ron made his way down the hallway.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

"I just don't understand, Severus."

They both stared at the ruined cup and locket set in the middle of Dumbledore's desk. They'd been sitting there one morning when he'd arrived in his office, and had been sitting there ever since. Both men were perplexed on what to make of the artifacts.

"Have you told the boy?"

Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "I have not told Harry, yet."

The weight of the prophecy had been growing more and more as the war began to advance. But Dumbledore hadn't been able to bring himself to talk to Harry Potter just yet. There was something...off about the boy.

"I don't like him," Severus said, taking a sip from a steaming cup. He pulled a sour face, but Dumbledore wasn't sure if it was distaste for the drink, or Harry, himself that caused the reaction.

"That has never been a secret."

"He's as pompous as his father."

"And yet…"

"And nothing of his mother," Severus finished. "Little magical ability."

"Yet good at potions."

"Passibly," Severus conceded. "He's impetuous and foolhardy. A true Gryffindor."

"To tell the truth," Dumbledore said, "having watched him those seven years, I was surprised he was not sorted into Slytherin."

Severus made another face and let the conversation die away.

"As for the horcruxes…"

"It's obvious that someone else knows."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. But who?"

"It must be one of the Dark Lord's servants."

"You've said it was impossible."

"I said improbable. The two are not the same."

"You've softened your opinion, then."

Snape stood abruptly and moved to the window, staring out at the setting sun. "I think it highly unlikely that someone would be able to hide something like this from the Dark Lord. If there is someone that skilled at hiding their thoughts…. Well, then I suppose I would be the last one to know."

Dumbledore looked down at the cup and locket once more. "Indeed."

"Is there a chance it's not one of the Dark Lord's own?"

"Are you asking me if I have slipped in my old age, Severus?" Snape made a sound in the back of his throat and Dumbledore laughed softly. "I assure you, I have been the model of discretion. I have told no one who did not need to know, and I have been very liberal with using memory charms, something I am loathe to do, but feel is necessary."

"It might help if we'd known where these two were hidden before-"

"Before they appeared on my desk, yes," Dumbledore finished.

He used the tip of his wand to nudge the deformed cup, eyeing the crack that had split it down the center. "I have my suspicions about the locket, and was planning to explore in a few weeks. If I am right, then someone discovered the location before us."

"Could it be someone from the light?"

They'd already discussed everyone it might possibly be, time and time again, and come to no conclusion at all. No solution made sense. No one should know about the horcruxes at all, let alone that there were multiple and how to destroy them so effectively.

"I just do not know what to think."