Chapter 10: Hogwarts Intrusion: Part One

Later that night, Harry sat in his private study, seated in one of his extremely comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace that burned with an everlasting green blaze. In front of him was a table where a jumble of scrolls from the various departments in Azkaban lay waiting to be read, and in some cases, signed and approved. What really caught his gaze was the single scroll bound together with silky black string. The string, a creation of Harry's, was heavily enchanted and had been given to his most trusted and valuable spy within the Ministry, a spy with powerful connections and a considerable amount of influence. Only Harry could open it safely, indeed, only Harry knew the spy, and although the enchantments could be broken, it was written in a specially devised and unique code, only known to Harry and the spy in question. With quick silent Accio, the scroll zoomed into his waiting hand. Harry carefully tapped the string with his wand, muttering a guttural phrase in Trollish of all languages, and the string unbound itself and slithered away. He opened the scroll, taking his time to translate the message from the code he had devised, and felt his heart quicken at the first part of the message.

One of the items you seek is, at the present moment, located in the Headmasters Office at Hogwarts. The Headmaster seems unaware of its true value, but the Dark Lord is most certainly not. I have personally arranged that the wards will be accessible for a single minute at the edge of the great lake, tomorrow night at nine. Escaping Hogwarts should not be a problem, especially with your reputation.

Harry's lips curled up and for a moment, he looked happier than he had been in decades. Finally, another Horcrux had been revealed! Before the Fall of the Ministry and his time as an Auror, just after Dumbledore had died, he had gone searching with Ron and Hermione for Voldemort's horcruxes, and had managed to only find and destroy one, Hufflepuff's Cup. Since then, the quest had withered away and although Harry had identified the last of the items, finding them had been an impossible task. As his mind sped into action, he glanced down at the scroll to read the rest of the message, which was a hastily scrawled afterthought.

There are rumours of a large operation being planned. Intercepted conversation between Lestrange and top-level Death Eater identified the operation named as "Evanesco"

Unsure to purpose as of yet, will strive to discover.

Yours loyally

Harry's face creased as he frowned in thought. An operation named after the Vanishing Charm? What was Voldemort up to now? He sighed softly to himself, tapping his wand idly on the side of the armchair and watching small golden sparks zap from the tip, deep in thought. Was Voldemort preparing to start his inevitable attack on other Wizarding nations, who, Harry knew with cold certainty, couldn't match the Dark Lords power. After Voldemort took over Britain, it had taken him years to consolidate his power, during the time where Harry made his greatest attacks and victories, almost destroying the new regime entirely. Many people had died on both sides and it was only afterwards that he realised that that had been a mistake, that he by attacking as he had, he had portrayed himself to various Wizarding nations, who only knew his name as a magical anomaly, a baby who had survived, as a powerful rogue wizard. Whatever support he might have hoped to garner was lost and at the time the other nation seemed content to let Britains little civil war drag on, as long as they weren't bothered, not recognising Voldemort's true power and intentions. Harry shook his head, dragging his head out of his memories and gave a small bark-like chuckle to himself.

"They're regretting that now," He murmured to himself.

"Who is regretting what?" Another voice broke into his thoughts.

Harry started, his magic flaring up in an instant, ready to wandlessly and wordlessly strike at someone as he swivelled his head, his green eyes narrowing dangerously, before his brain caught up to his instincts and he recognised the voice and face as Christina's, who seemed amused by the reaction she had received.

"Just old thoughts," He admitted with a small smile, standing up and stretching his tired muscles.

Christina nodded, aware of her boss' peculiarities, and handed him a small cup of firewhiskey. Harry accepted the cup and gulped it down, enjoying the heated sensation that burned his throat and stomach while suppressing the magical reactions that caused the expulsion of flames from his mouth.

"Christina, if I say "Evanesco", what do you think of?" Harry asked curiously.

The pretty witch frowned. "The vanishing charm?" She responded, half-answering, half questioning.

"Hmm," Harry murmured with a frown. "I wonder what he's up to now."

Christina didn't respond to the musing question, and was well aware of who 'he' was. But, if anybody could stop Voldemort, it would be her boss. For a moment, Christina felt nothing but affection for the man in front of her, one of the most powerful wizards in the world who had taken it onto himself to destroy evil, who had forced himself to become more powerful, more intelligent, more cunning and more cold and calculating in order to protect those under his command. If though he was bound under prophecy, which was public knowledge although the exact contents were unknown, Christina privately thought that like the rest of the Order, he would have fought anyway, whether it was for revenge or for a better future. Either way, he would have fought.

"Why don't you get some rest, sir?" She suggested warmly. "I'll neaten up this place and sort through the non-classified scrolls for you."

"That… would be good," Harry murmured as he stood, clutching the spy report in his hand.

Christina watched him enter one of the doors in the large study, and as she moved to work on the scrolls, he ducked his head back into the room, an almost mischievous look on his face.

"Oh, and Christina? Inform the Department of Military Affairs that I'm infiltrating Hogwarts tomorrow."

Christina stared, almost dumbstruck, as he disappeared back into his room, before a sly grin came over her face. She loved being the bearer of shocking news. Absently humming to herself, she waved her wand, stacking the scrolls neatly in a pile, before going off to deliver the news, eager to see the look on Ron's face.

"So, what mission is so important that we need to invade Hogwarts?" Ron asked the next morning, scepticism clearly drawn on his scarred face. Both wizards stood in the analysis room, which was the hub for all internal and external reports, as well as the centre of all intelligence-related activities. Around them, wizards bustled back and forth in their grey robes, pouring over scrolls and pensieve memories, several of them occasionally glancing at two most-famous Order members idly chatting

Harry's eyes flickered around the large room, noting that several wizards and witches were subtly peeking through the corner of their eyes, straining their ears to overhear the conversation. Ron noticed the move and sighed, giving a wry smile.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" He asked, half-amused, half-weary.

"You're not going to know," Harry said firmly. "Because I'm doing this mission alone."

"Alone?" Ron asked, almost spluttering in surprise, his eyes widening a fraction as he stared at his oldest friend. "Are you mad? Harry, you're good, but you're not that good. We've just learned that there's two dozen Death Eater's stationed at Hogwarts, for some stupid commutation about Voldemort's takeover. Even if you got past the wards, you can't take them all out."

Harry raised his hand and Ron fell silent at once. "I said "I" was doing "this" mission," he said, a touch firmly.

Ron looked slightly abashed, but still defiant, until Harry continued. "But, "you" will be coming with me with different orders."

Ron frowned, his scarred face twisting into something quite unsightly. "There are two different missions at Hogwarts?" He murmured.

"Without my mission, I wouldn't authorise yours," Harry said. "But, since we'll be there anyway, this can give me a chance to initiate something I've wanted to do for a while."

"What is it?" Ron asked, before glancing around at the public setting. "Maybe we should…"

He was interrupted as one of the working wizards wordlessly handed Harry a red-stringed scroll, before going back to work without another thought, knowing well enough to keep what he had gathered secret. Harry unravelled the scroll and briefly glanced down at it before silently handing it to Ron, who took one look at it and closed his eyes wearily. When he opened them, they were determined and stubborn.

"We need to talk," Ron said quietly. "Privately."

Five minutes later, and after several precautionary powerful privacy, silencing and concealment charms and wards had been cast around in Harry's study, Ron rounded on Harry with a grim expression on his face, his eyes flashing with anger as he clutched the scroll in his hand.

"This?" He asked incredulously. "This is the mission?"

"We're both going to Hogwarts to, ah, acquire, something," Harry said, a touch delicately. "For me, it will be a Horcrux."

"You mean you've found another?" Ron asked, the matter temporarily dropped as his excitement flared.

"So my spy tells me," Harry remarked quietly.

Ron made a small face. "You must trust them an awful lot to tell them about the horcruxes."

Harry's lips curled into a mysterious smile. "I do," he said quietly. "I trust the spy enough to know that they would never betray me."

Ron stared at Harry for a few seconds, a troubled expression settling on his face. "That's what Dumbledore though about Snape," he said quietly. "If a spy will turn once, he might turn again."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. "But every single meaningful victory we've had over the past four years, and many minor victories before that, can be attributed to my spy."

Ron nodded, clearly not wanting to drop the matter, but a single glance at the scroll in his hand was enough to change the subject.

"Harry," he begun, his face troubled. "We've done a lot of things that I am not particular proud of, but this…"

"We're not killing anybody Ron," Harry interrupted, a touch coldly. "I'm acquiring a Horcrux, you're acquiring a student. Both are extremely valuable, in two different ways."

"She's a Second Year!" Ron burst out angrily, throwing the scroll down onto Harry's desk, on which there was a photo of a cheerful-looking young girl with cropped black hair and light blue eyes waved enthusiastically, occasionally turning to her left to laugh at something somebody else outside the photo had said. Below the photo, in a spindly narrow scrawl, was all currently known information about the girl, name Daphne Annabel Pucey.

"And she is the daughter of the Head of Magical Economics," retorted Harry, glancing down at the photo of the girl. "With careful planning, we can replenish out dwindling finances with some much needed gold."

"Kidnapping children for money," Ron muttered darkly, his face clearly showing his displeasure and disapproval at the idea. "Is that what we've become? Common thieves and kidnappers?"

"We're broke Ron," Harry said flatly. "We need the money. Despite what the outside world thinks, we have to pay for a lot that happens here. Neville needs money to pay for the greenhouses and the farmers, who won't work without some compensation, Hermione needs money to import textbooks and updated spell books, Ginny needs money for the ingredients we can't steal for her potion, Luna needs money for her hospital and the potions Ginny can't make, you need money for your men and women, for the dragonhide vests and armour, for the Enchanters who make our weapons, and I need the money to persuade our spies and everyday criminals to tell us something useful."

"She's still a child," Ron replied softly. "We've never gone to these sorts of tactics before. I don't see what's changed now."

"We're losing this war," Harry said, his anger simmering below the surface of his emotionless and hard exterior.

Ron flinched. "Azkaban is still safe." He pointed out. "We're not completely lost yet."

"Our numbers are at an all-time low, Ron," Harry pointed out. "Our attacks today are nothing compared to ten years ago, and more and more people leave Azkaban for the relative safety of other countries each year. If we don't end this soon then I think it's only a matter of time; months, maybe a year or two if we're lucky, before we're overrun and destroyed."

Ron flinched as the cold, bare facts were laid out in front of him. He knew this, of course, but to hear it spoken by the strongest, magically and emotionally, person he knew was quite foreboding.

"If this truly is a Horcrux, and we can obtain it, then we only have two more Horcruxes left before Voldemort is mortal- two, including his original soul." Harry finished.

"You still don't think that he would have created anymore Horcruxes?" Ron questioned.

Harry shook his head, looking certain. "He was pushing it at two, let alone seven. It was only through powerful modified rituals especially based on the magical potential of "seven" that had managed to go as far as he did. If he tried to make a new one, he would split and destroy the protections binding the last remaining fragment of his soul to his body."

"That would be bad, then?" Ron asked.

"It would be the same as kissing a dementor, and Voldemort wouldn't risk that," Harry said firmly. "Not after he's achieved what he's always wanted."

There was a minute of silence as both wizards emerged themselves in their thoughts, before Harry spoke up again.

"So, you will do this mission for me," He asked again carefully.

Ron gave a rueful laugh. "When have I ever refused a mission from you?" He snorted quite bitterly. "I suppose you have a way in."

"Yes, but I don't have a secure way out," Harry told him. "I'll think of one though, you go get your team ready.

Ron nodded, some sourness still on his face, and left, leaving Harry alone in his study.

Deep within an unplottabe location in Scotland, a tall and magnificent castle stood, thousands of tiny lights twinkling in the fresh air. For over one thousand years, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been a pinnacle of magical education, where eager young wizards and witches went to learn the secrets of magic. After Lord Voldemort had taken over the Ministry, all Muggleborns were expelled as Severus Snape went back to as Headmaster, a prestigious position that he enjoyed once he realised he did not have to teach. These days, Hogwarts was a heavily warded Dark Arts school devoted to the beliefs of Voldemort. A noticeable aura of darkness enveloped the once beautiful castle as generations of young magic-users were taught to focus their hate and rage into tools of violence and torture.

While Hogwarts was still standing, the ancient wards that had once guarded the school had almost vanished, as if they could sense the evil and darkness of their present owners. Although other wards had been cast, powerful in their own right, they were not up to the standards of the previous wards, which allowed Harry's spy the opportunity to briefly allow access to two intruders. Around Hogwarts, the dark lake shimmered brightly in the pale moonlight as at the edge of this lake, not to far from the school; two dark figures emerged from the lake, barely noticeable as they slipped into the shadows surrounding the school.

Harry quickly dove into the shadows and away from the wards that surrounded the lake,

waiting tensely as Ron followed him. A moment later, Harry sensed an oily presence slide over the shoreline as the dark wards re-activated. Flicking his wand, he dispelled both the bubblehead charm surrounding his head and the impervious charm surrounding his body. Next to him, Ron did the same in two wand movements, glancing up at Hogwarts and shuddering.

"This is what Hogwarts has become?" He whispered to himself.

Harry said nothing, but could feel his own disgust and revulsion mixing in with Ron's. As he stared at his former home, brief flashes of memory flew through his head- The Philosophers stone, the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius and the Dementors, the Tri-wizard Tournament, Umbridge, and lastly, Dumbledore and his death at the hands of Snape. His eyes glinted coldly and his lip pulled back into an animalistic snarl at the thought of the traitorous filth lauding it up in Dumbledore's rightful office.

"You know your mission, right?" He asked Ron.

"Yeah," Ron answered, his voice tight with strain as he stared at Hogwarts and the dark magic that simply radiated off it. "I'll get to it then and send the signal when I'm done."

"Go," Harry said, and Ron obeyed, slinking off into the night under a powerful invisibility spell.

Harry remained where he was, his face thoughtful as he pondered his upcoming mission, before he heard an extremely soft rustling movement. He spun around silently, drawing himself deeper into the foliage and raising his wand as a figure walked approached the line of trees and bushes he had hidden himself in. As they got closer, Harry narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, revealing himself. The figure stopped as they saw Harry standing in front of them with his wand raised.

"Do you not recognise me?" They asked softly, taking a step forward.

"I do," Harry responded quietly, his green eyes intense.

"I am," the figure started, and moved forward until they were totally revealed while watching as Harry's hardened emerald eyes lightened and his face softened with fondness. " Your most loyal. "

Ron crept along the dimly lit passages, his mind drifting back to better days when he was a student, creeping out after hours and doing his best to avoid Filch. He mentally snorted to himself, remembering how he had sometimes had been so scared that Filch would find him. Thirty years later, and he was doing the same thing, except getting caught this time will actually mean torture, rather than Flich's half-hearted grumbling.

He approached the Head of Ravenclaw's office, darting his head back and forth to see if there was anybody around, before slipping his hand into his robes and pulling out an ornately carved golden eye-piece. He placed it on his left eye and squinted past the thick and sturdy wooden door, the eyepiece flicking his vision to that similar to a muggle x-ray, allowing him to see the skeletal form of the Professor sitting down with his feet up, a square book in his hand. There seemed to be no other people in the room, so he took a deep breath and knocked softly, trying to echo the knock of a scared first year.

Using the eye-piece, he could see the tall man- it was definitely a man, Ron could tell, stand up and head for the door, grabbing a thin object from the table on the way.

The doorknob turned and the door slammed open, revealing a tall lanky man with cold blue eyes and sharp features permanently twisted up into a look of revulsion and arrogance.

"You little brats better have a good reason for being up so late, I'm already going to give you ten lashes…" The man started with an angry hiss, before he sighted Ron standing there with his wand levelled directly at his head.

" Stupefy!" Ron hissed, and a red flash of light slammed directly into the man's eyes, blasting him backwards and sending him to the ground, his body awkwardly sprawling out on the floor. "Petrificus Totalus! "

The man stiffened in unconsciousness, and Ron took the time to bind and silence the man, eyeing the narrow switch the professor had been holding with angry eyes. He plucked a hair from the man's head and disillusioned the body, before levitating it and placing behind a large couch. He only hoped that nobody came looking for the Professor in the next five or so minutes, or there would be trouble. Placing the hair into a small vial of a thick brownish paste, he looked faintly disgusted as the Polyjuice turned into a sickly purple, then gulped it down. He felt the transformations take place, and after conjuring a mirror to be certain, left the room for the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Daphne Annabel Pucey gave a quiet sigh in frustration as she bent her head over her History of Magic homework in the Ravenclaw Common Room, absently chewing on the end of her quill as she wracked her brains over her current assignment, famous war heroes who perished in the last war. She had chosen Daphne Greengrass, the powerful witch who had fallen to the wand of Harry Potter, and her namesake.

"What's wrong?" Her friend, a shy-looking brunette Second Year asked softly. All around them, students studied studiously and almost silently, speaking only in soft whispers as they poured over homework and dark magic books, trying to get it all in their heads before the next class and avoid a lashing or switching.

"I can't remember the Order members Greengrass defeated before Potter murdered her," Daphne said, sighing again with frustration.

"It was that Old Ministry Auror, the crazy-one with one-eye," Her friend said, frowning in deep thought. "And the other one, the metamorphmagus, with the funny name."

"Alastor Moody!" Daphne said with sudden remembrance and scribbled down the name. "And Nymphadora Tonks. Thanks, I really couldn't remember those names."

"No problem," the other girl said quietly¸ scribbling something over her own piece of parchment. "I'm doing the Werewolf Exterminations, just after the Fall of the Ministry. Fenrir Greyback sounds so evil, I'm just glad that the Dark Lord wiped out their kind when their usefulness was over."

Suddenly the Common Room portrait door opened. The Common Room fell silent as Professor Blackthorn entered, his cool eyes sweeping the room with a strange look, settling on Daphne. A look of triumph flashed through their Head of House eyes, although no student saw it as they bent down in their work, completely silent as they waited for their Professor to dish out an unexpected punishment.

"Pucey!" Professor Blackthorn said softly. "Come with me. Your parents have requested your presence."

Daphne exchanged a startled look with her friend and stood up. As she moved to put her books away, Blackthorn scowled.

"Now!" He insisted. "I'm sure one of your friends can do that for you."

Daphne nodded slowly and with one last bewildered look to her friend, left the room with her Head of House by her side.

Together, Professor and student travelled through the darkened hallways without a single word being spoken between them. While Daphne looked calm and collected, her mind was racing. What could her parents want now? Oh Merlin, please do not let it be about a marriage contract. She tried to edge a look sideways at her professor, but his face gave away nothing. Finally, the two reached Professor Blackthorn's office, and he wordlessly opened it and beckoned Daphne to enter. Daphne swallowed and tried to calm her racing mind as she entered, fully expecting to see her mother's stern but loving face and her father's infectious smile. But the office was empty. Dimly, Daphne heard the door close behind her.

"Professor, there's nobody…" She started, turning around, only to see the Professor's oddly regretful face as he raised his wand. A blinding flash of red registered in Daphne's brain before all went dark.

Ron stared at the stunned body of the young girl in front of him with something akin to self-disgust and pity. He raised his wand, and clearing his mind of all external distractions, made several sharp loops, followed by a series of soft flick, as he carefully transfigured the girl into a small turtle, being extra-careful to make sure that he didn't accidentally harm her. A throbbing blue flash emerged from his wand, enveloping the stunned student. After the transfiguration was done, Ron conjured a small but sturdy metal cage and placed the turtle inside.

" Enervate!" He muttered, waving his wand over the disillusioned Professor lying on the couch. "Finite Incanterum!"

The real Blackthorns eyes opened, dazed and confused, and stared upwards. Surprise and shock flooded through them as he saw himself standing above him.

"What…" He began, only as his double waved his wand, flicking it sharply towards him.

Suddenly he felt something slide into his mind, ripping apart his natural mental defences with ease. He groaned, before going silent as his memory of the past thirty minutes or so disappeared and new ones emerged… sitting back, reading his book… a floo call from Adrian Pucey… urgently needed so see his daughter… going to the Ravenclaw tower, gathering the brat… the girl disappearing in the Floo… going back to his book… completely natural….nothing odd….small degree of irritability at being bothered… tiredness… falling asleep on the couch, book propped on his stomach….

Ron lowered his wand as he cast the sleeping charm and the eyes of the professor tiredly closed as he began sleeping. He carefully placed the book the professor had been reading before, Dark Arts of the Wild African Plains, onto his stomach and, summoning the small cage he had conjured, pulled out a small clear crystal and muttered a wandless incantation. The crystal pulsed in a sparkling soft white glow as Ron placed it back in his robes, before exiting the office quietly, his mission complete.

Harry approached the Headmaster's office carefully, hidden beneath a powerful invisibility charm. Portraits stared at the corridors with blank eyes, their personalities corrupted by the dark magic around the school. Occasionally a ghost would fly hurriedly by, their dead eyes sweeping the corridors for intruders. Powerful dark magic and enchantments had been placed on the ghosts, twisting them into mere wisps who served the Headmaster, and by default Voldemort, without question. Finally, after a gruelling two minutes where a tall bloodied ghost with no eyes had almost pierced the invisibility, silencing and notice-me-not charms around Harry's person, Harry arrived at the large gargoyle which hid the Headmasters office. There didn't seem to be any portraits or ghosts nearby, so Harry prepared to blast his way into the office, grab the Horcrux, and leave before anybody knew what was happening. It had been ten minutes since he had departed from his conversation with his faithful spy after receiving Ron's message that his mission was complete, so Harry hoped that Ron was near the edge of the Forbidden Forest by now, where Harry's spy had hidden two brooms.

Harry gathered his magic, funnelling it into the slim piece of holly he held in his hands. His wand started vibrating madly, heating up in his hands, and the tip cackled with suppressed magic, just straining to erupt. Just as Harry was about to launch an extremely powerful Obliteration Curse at the entrance, the Gargoyle suddenly looked up, winked, and opened up!

Harry simply stared in amazement, a look of confusion and surprise appearing on the normally emotionless face. He let his magic die down, feeling it return into his body and flow through his veins, and his wand stopped vibrating, the heat fading away. He quickly checked to see if somebody was coming down, pressing himself up against one of the walls, his stealth charms still active. But nobody came down the stairway and nor was there anybody approaching. After a few minutes, Harry frowned, regarding the open stairway with suspicion. He flicked his wand, letting loose only the tiniest of magic as he cast a weak but effective ward-detection spell. There were none active, it was as if they had been shut off or diverted. Finally, after a few more minutes of silence and quick thinking, Harry took a deep breath and risked putting his foot on the first step. Nothing happened, so he continued, walking up the stairways slowly as if he were expecting a trap. For any other item other than a Horcrux, Harry would have aborted the mission, but this was a one-time deal and essential to Voldemort's defeat, so he risked the chance that he may be walking into an ambush. At the top of the stairs, the door opened silently, much like the gargoyle, and Harry stepped inside Snape's office, almost wanting Snape to be there so that Harry could finally have his revenge.

But the office was empty and it had been transformed greatly from Dumbledore's time. The shelves had been cleared off the little knick-knacks and peculiar magical items that to this day, Harry still became confused over their identity and purpose. They had been replaced with a mixture of dark magical items, including a withered Hand of Glory, a shiny silver hangman's noose, an amulet shaped into a Celtic cross that radiated dark magic and so on. The bookshelves were packed to the brim with advanced Dark Arts and Potion tomes, all which looked to be getting quite dusty. The phoenix perch was gone and the portraits on the walls were empty, the former Headmaster's and Headmistresses not present in the frames. The item that drew his attention was a tiny pocket sneakoscope, ancient in looks and application. It looked as if it had existed a thousand years and would fall apart at any time, but Harry could sense huge waves of malice and evil rolling off the derelict magical device and hitched a breath. That was it. That was the Horcrux, carefully placed inside Godric Gryffindor's personal sneakoscope.

Suddenly a voice drew him out of his thoughts.

"Hello Harry, my dear boy, it has been quite some time."

Harry whirled around to the portraits, and there, sitting in a frame titled Merculia Dodge was Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling merrily. He lowered his wand in stunned disbelief, his mind whirling.

"Dumbledore!" he breathed.

"Alas, it is I." Dumbledore said happily, eyeing Harry fondly. "You may drop the charms that you have littered on your person, even as a portrait I can see past them."

Harry did as he was told, staring at Dumbledore's portrait figure in complete bemusement. "I won't believe that they made a portrait of you," he said bluntly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "My goodness, no," He exclaimed. "My brother had one commissioned after my death and it was placed in a remote cottage, which had once belonged to me, after the Fall of the Ministry."

"Then how did you get here?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, his beard twitching as he ran a gnarled hand through it. "My connection to Hogwarts, as a previous Headmaster, allowed it." His eyes dimmed, showing an incredible sadness. "Hogwarts, beautiful Hogwarts has been suppressed by dark enhancements and wards, constrained and bound. She can only wield a tiny amount of power at a time. When you approached this office, Hogwarts, bound as she is, recognised you and granted you access while summoning me to these frames, whose occupants are suppressed much like Hogwarts."

"She?" Harry echoed.

"Hogwarts could be a she or a he," Dumbledore explained. "Hogwarts is a powerful magical object and while possessing no conscious mind, she retains a certain sentience. I refer to Hogwarts as a "she" merely because it seems appropriate."

"She recognised me?" Harry asked.

"Your magical signature, you essence, your life-force," Dumbledore answered quietly. "She associates you with me, largely due to the close bond we once shared. She knows that you never meant her harm and you would not have bound her and hurt her as the current Headmaster has. Therefore, she temporarily disabled the wards on this office and sent for me, enabling us to meet once again without alerting the Headmaster."

"Snape," Harry muttered.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore said with a tired sigh.

Harry had so many things to say, so many questions that he needed answering and a large urge to say "I told you so!" but he restrained them all and pointed at the sneakoscope. "That's a Horcrux." He said bluntly.

Dumbledore peered from his portrait over his half-moon glasses. "Ah," he muttered. "Interesting."

"After this, there's only two more, three including Voldemort himself," Harry said.

"That is good, that is good," Dumbledore said softly. He stared at Harry, running his eyes over his appearance, and his eyes seemed to glisten. "Harry my boy, you do not look well."

Harry looked over himself. "I'm as well as I have been for the past twenty years." He said.

"Your hair is greying," Dumbledore replied. "In a wizard as young as you, that is a sign of an extreme amount of stress and hardship."

"That's no surprise there," Harry said, snorting slightly. "It's been a long time since I wasn't stressed."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I do remember hearing that you are running the Order of Phoenix out of Azkaban."

"Not to much success recently," Harry admitted. "We're weaker than we ever have been before."

"I gather that is what has provoked you to take this dangerous mission?" Dumbledore asked.

"If we kill Voldemort, it will all fall apart," Harry said grimly. "The masses tolerate him because they fear his power. If he is dead, then they won't let the Death Eater's continue their reign of power."

Dumbledore nodded, before his eyes unfocussed and glazed over as if he were sensing something that Harry couldn't. Harry watched carefully as Dumbledore shook himself out his stupor and turned back to Harry, his face grave. "Hogwarts cannot delay the wards on this room for much longer. It is draining her at a faster rate than she anticipated! Take the Horcrux and go! She has disabled the wards on it! You must go!"

Harry flicked his wand sharply and the ancient sneakoscope zoomed from its place on the shelf towards him. He quickly stuffed it into a secure anti-theft pocket in the inside of his robes and turned to leave.

"I'll see you again, Dumbledore," Harry vowed quietly to the portrait.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, before his face twisted up in confusion and abruptly he was gone. Suddenly Harry felt the presence of dark wards reactivating themselves and with muttered curse, Harry raced out of the office, jumping down the stairs in a rush to get out of the office. It was only as he neared the bottom and breakneck speed when he sensed a secret and hidden ward activating around him as it sensed his unwelcome presence. Just as Harry was almost out of the stairwell, a cascade of pulsing dark magic erupted from the walls in a large continuous burst that resembled muggle electricity. Harry tried to raise a shield, but he was too slow, and the ward swept over him. Cackling dark magic consumed his body, catching him and binding him to the floor. Harry screamed in agony as a pain reminiscent of the Cruciatus Curse swept over him as bright blue and purple electricity-like magic zapped into him, cascading around his body. He could feel himself dying, feel the effects on his body as the dark magic seeped into him, cauterising his flesh. A thin stream of smoke arose from his body as he convulsed madly, his mind ablaze with agonising pain, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing as his body succumbed to the magic and started to die…