Sirius poked a beastly paw with his toe and watched it twitch. "Someone dropped a live Chimaera in my house?"
"It wasn't alive," Harry said. James was helping him stand, supporting one of Harry's arms with his body. "Undead. Reanimated, like an Inferus."
"Someone put an undead Chimaera in my house?"
"Clearly," James said. "Unless it strolled in on its own."
"Is this even possible?" Sturgis asked. He was standing closest to the door, blinking more than was healthy. "Almost no one can create Inferi. Nobody has even seen them since the first war. Besides, my Nan used to tell me stories about Chimaeras. She made them sound like dragons, telling me how they'd snap me up if I wandered in the woods after dark. Someone killed one to make a trap? And Harry killed it again?"
"It almost got me," Harry said.
Sturgis gave him a once-over. "You don't look half as bad as I would expect. You're not dead. Only bleeding a little, too. I saw the wards when I was breaking through them. They were designed to make that thing even more dangerous."
James helped Harry toward the door. Harry could have walked on his own but it was nice to have a helping hand. James didn't seem willing to do it any other way.
"You're right, Sturgis," Harry said. "Everything you said is true."
"Then… How did you live?"
Sturgis Podmore fought both wars with the Order of the Phoenix. He had seen the atrocities Voldemort committed a decade ago. This wouldn't be the first time he was summoned to the scene of a trap. Usually, those missions didn't end with the Order member sitting on the body of their attacker.
It was more likely to find them in pieces… if you could find them at all. Caradoc Dearborn simply vanished and was never seen again.
"I'm more resilient than I look," Harry said. Standing in front of Sturgis with James's help, Harry patted the man's shoulder. James then helped him toward the door.
"Back in the woods…" Sturgis said.
Uncharacteristically, he didn't keep talking. Harry smiled.
"We sure were lucky, huh?" Harry said. "It could have been bad if Tonks didn't step in."
"Let's get back to Hogwarts. Poppy will patch you up," James said.
"I think my ribs got the worst of it," Harry groaned.
Sirius quit prodding the dead Chimaera's limbs and followed them out. On his way past Sturgis he said, "Let yourself out whenever you feel like leaving. Don't worry about locking up. If a thief wanted to steal anything, I'd shake their hand and thank them for taking it off my hands."
Sturgis nodded, staring at the felled monster.
Sirius caught up with Harry and James two floors down.
"Is that alright?" Sirius asked. "I know Sturgis is a sound bloke, but he's convinced Augusta is Merlin's long lost granddaughter."
"Wouldn't there be a few 'greats' in there?" Harry asked.
"No way. Have you seen her wrinkles?"
"He's got a point," James said.
"Thank you," Sirius said. "Augusta's ancient."
"Not about that. About Sturgis. If he reports back to her, Augusta will figure out there's more to you than meets the eye."
The trio reached the ground floor. Harry was aware of Sirius' curious eyes. Realistically, he'd been in the dark almost as much as Sturgis. He must have just as many questions about how Harry pulled something like this off, but he was doing an impressive job keeping it in.
"If that happens… so be it," Harry said. "Augusta might be a lot of things, but she's not an enemy, and neither are the people working with her. They're all part of the Order. Trying too hard to keep secrets will only get in our way."
They exited onto the street. The entire block felt like a ghost town, a testament to how well Kingsley had handled his side of things. Harry breathed in deeply. He couldn't remember ever appreciating fresh air so much.
"The question is, why Grimmauld Place?" Sirius asked. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to get rid of you. How'd they even know you were going to come?"
"It probably wasn't about me specifically," Harry said. "I went to Grimmauld looking for something. An artifact that's precious to the Dark Lord."
Sirius pointed at him. "All that talk about a lesson was bullshit!"
"It was better if less people knew the truth," Harry said. "Still, I would've told you if the models weren't there. It wasn't exactly a private conversation."
"...Fair," Sirius said. "But you can't deny having them around made it more fun."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Just tell me one thing." Sirius sounded, well, serious once more. "How did something like that end up in Grimmauld Place?"
"Kreacher," Harry said. "He stole it as the last order from his old master."
Sirius froze. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes, usually sharp with wit, turned dull.
"So Regulus…"
"I don't know all the details, only that he lost faith in the Dark Lord. He and Kreacher stole one of Voldemort's most precious possessions, one of the things keeping him alive. I heard it would be here. Instead, I walked into what Grimmauld Place became."
After a bit of silence, Sirius started to laugh. He turned back to the open front door of Grimmauld Place.
"Hear that Mum!" he yelled. "You've got two terrible sons! Suck on that in the great beyond!"
Not even Walburga's mutilated portrait could hear him, but it seemed to get something off of his chest. He looked away, blinking to hide something leaking from the corner of his eye.
"I should get back to Hounddog," Sirius said. "It'll be suspicious if I'm away for too long. Glad you made it, Harry. Try not to cut it so close in the future, yeah?"
Sirius Disapparated. James said, "He's happy."
"You think so?"
"He and Regulus were always complicated. His mum used Regulus as the example of what he should be, because Regulus always lived to please. Sirius felt bad for him. Every once in a while, he'd wonder what his brother would've been like with better parents."
Harry looked back at Grimmauld Place. "He made a good choice at the end."
"I know. Now Sirius knows, too. That's why he's happy." James squared his shoulders. "We should get back to Dumbledore. Can you Apparate?"
Harry tested his weight and felt an ache behind his ribs.
"Probably best to side-long me."
The two of them winked out of existence, reappearing on the front step of James's home. From there, via the fireplace, they traveled the rest of the way to Hogwarts.
O-O-O
Harry winced as he felt Poppy Pomphrey's potion do its work on his insides.
"That never feels good," he said. "Like someone turned a can of snakes upside down in my stomach."
"It feels a lot better than letting snapped ribs dig into your muscle tissue!" Poppy Pomfrey said. "Stay still and don't complain."
Harry hadn't had much to do with Hogwarts' resident Medi-witch since arriving in the past. She looked exactly like she had during his school days, with less gray hair and about half as many wrinkles as Harry was used to. It seemed like she had two expressions: matronly smiles and cross frowns. She alternated between the two based on the behavior of her patients. Harry stopped complaining in an effort to turn the latter into the former.
Instead of having him cross the castle in this state, something that was sure to raise questions — from students and, worse, from Umbridge — Dumbledore called Poppy to his office. She had treated Harry's scrapes with a salve and fixed the internal damage with a potion that was still in effect, reknitting his ribcage.
"Try to keep off of your feet for the next hour," Madame Pomfrey said. "Move gingerly for the rest of the day after that. If you can do so, you should be as right as rain by tomorrow. Do you understand?"
"Crystal clear," Harry said.
He was reclined in one of the chairs Dumbledore kept for visitors. The owner of the office was behind his desk while James stood close to the door. "Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "As ever, you are a life saver."
He chuckled at his own pun. Poppy shook her head.
"What would you buffoons do without me?" she wondered aloud. "At least I can be sure I'll always have work."
"And we're forever grateful for your efforts," Dumbledore said.
He and the matron had worked together for decades. A silent communication passed between them. Poppy repeated her instructions to Harry to ensure he'd memorized them, then left the office.
Dumbledore touched a strange square on the corner of his desk. A whirring sound passed through the office along with a vague sensation of magic. Although Harry couldn't put his finger on what, he could tell something had activated.
"That should offer us sufficient privacy," Dumbledore said. "Have no fear of eavesdroppers or intruders. Now tell us, Harry. What happened?"
On the way here, Harry had put a lot of thought into the best place to start this story. He held out his hand. "Accio Diary."
A worn and punctured bundle of leather flew off Dumbledore's shelves. Harry caught it and laid it on the desk.
"That's the journal, isn't it Albus?" James asked. "The one that almost killed Arthur and Molly's youngest."
Dumbledore looked pensive. "Indeed it is."
James faced Harry. "You said something valuable to Voldemort was left in Grimmauld Place. Was there another of these?"
"Yes. But first, I need to explain what this diary really is," Harry said. "Have either of you heard of Horcruxes?"
"Never," James said.
But Dumbledore had gone quiet.
"Albus?" James asked, noticing that the headmaster wasn't answering. "You know what he's talking about, don't you?"
Dumbledore stroked the acid-eaten leather cover with his bony fingers. "I had feared… How many has he made?"
"Six," Harry said. "It was five when this diary was destroyed, but by now he'll have made Nagini into its replacement. He keeps Nagini at his side while the rest are scattered around Britain— Hufflepuff's cup in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts, Ravenclaw's Diadem inside the Room of Requirement here in Hogwarts, the Gaunt Ring was at the Gaunt Shack, and Slytherin's Locket was in an underground lake guarded by Inferi, until Regulus Black stole it at the cost of his life. It should have been in Grimmauld Place. Instead, it was gone, and the whole house was a trap. Kreacher's eyes had been replaced by fake lockets. Whoever did that knew what others would be coming for."
"This seems like something worth sharing sooner, rather than later," James said. "How long were you planning to stay quiet about these things?"
"I never planned to keep it to myself," Harry said. "I just had a few things to take care of first."
"Like what?"
"When you recounted the locations, you spoke of the ring in past tense," Dumbledore said. "I imagine there's a reason for that."
Harry's face was humorless as he put his hand into his pocket, bringing out a small black stone. Harry set it on Dumbledore's desk beside the diary.
"The Resurrection Stone," Harry said. "Passed down from Cadmus Peverell through the Gaunt Family. It was embedded in the ring that Voldemort imbued with his soul."
Dumbledore failed to answer. It was very, very rare to see him speechless. Now was one of those times.
"You got the ring and extracted it?" James asked.
"In a manner," Harry said. "That's the only part that didn't burn away in the Fiendfyre. Oh, don't look at me like that. I had to destroy the Horcrux somehow and there aren't many options. I didn't have a basilisk fang or Gryffindor's sword lying around."
James didn't press him further. He looked at the stone. Since its appearance, Dumbledore had not been able to avert his eyes.
"Albus?" James asked. "Are you feeling alright?"
Finally, Dumbledore dragged his eyes up.
"I did something unwise, didn't I?" he asked.
"I don't know how much of it was you," Harry said. "The ring was enchanted to feed on people's desires. The more regret someone lived with, the more effective it was against them. It pleaded to be put on. Once it was, that's when the curse would strike."
Harry paused, his words hanging into the air until he followed them up.
"That's how the Albus Dumbledore of my time died."
You could hear a wand drop in the room.
Eventually, Albus chuckled until he was wheezing. "Well, that's far less climactic than I would have hoped. Privately, I believed my end must have been a most spectacular duel against Tom, decided by a sudden bout of arthritis on the part of my aching joints. As ever, the truth spoils my dearest dreams."
"Albus died… to a ring?" James said. "Seriously?"
"From what Harry has said, it was the perfect trap for me," Dumbledore admitted. "Weaponizing my regrets… Yes, I can understand how that brought me down."
"The Resurrection Stone still works," Harry said. "I used it before the final battle to speak with—" Harry glanced at James. "—my family. It does summon those you want to see."
He was tempted to add how hollow the experience truly was, but he held back. If Dumbledore wanted to speak to Arianna again, he'd learn that on his own. It wasn't the kind of lesson words could teach.
"I notice," Dumbledore said, "that you have only mentioned six Horcruxes."
Harry winced. "That's right. There's one more."
"Where is it?" James asked.
"Here, technically. Inside Hogwarts."
"What is it?" Dumbledore asked, his tone discerning.
"Not everything is the same as it was in my time," Harry said, "so there's a chance this is different as well. There may be a chance that the seventh Horcrux doesn't exist here. But based on the things I've seen so far, and the tests I've run—"
Harry hesitated. James was tapping his foot from impatience, while Dumbledore had actually looked away from the Resurrection Stone to meet Harry's eyes.
"It's Neville," Harry said. "Neville Longbottom is the last Horcrux."
"How?" James said. "He's been protected since his first birthday!"
"Creating a Horcrux is an act of great evil," Dumbledore said. "It requires the murder of an innocent life. For example, a mother earnestly protecting her babe."
"Voldemort didn't mean to do it," Harry said. "To the end, he never realized what I was. I think that after splitting his soul so many times, it fractured more easily than it was supposed to."
"But you're fine," James said. "And Voldemort was destroyed. If it was done once, it can be done again. How did you get rid of it?"
"I died," Harry said.
His words hung in the air.
"After the Battle of Hogwarts, fought right outside here, I finally figured out what I was. You were the one who discovered it, Albus. I learned the full picture from memories you left behind. I was strangely calm, actually. I knew what I had to do. I went into the forest, alone, and let his killing curse hit me."
Harry noticed that James flinched.
"What happened next?" Dumbledore asked, gripped by an academic fascination.
"I visited the border between here and the beyond. You were there, Albus. We talked it out and I was given a choice. I could pass on, or I could go back. Be the hero. Save the day." Harry shrugged. "Things panned out."
"What a remarkably understated description of such dramatic events," Dumbledore said.
"We should tell Neville."
It was James who said it. His expression was odd, tense and inexpressive at the same time.
"This information is new to us all," Dumbledore said. "Above all, I think it best that we don't rush our judgements."
"This is too big to keep from him, Albus. He has to know."
"He will," Dumbledore said. "But I lack your conviction that this is the right time. That kind of knowledge is a burden that can crush a young man, even one as strong as Neville. Most importantly, it is knowledge Voldemort must never discover. Right now, as things stand, anything Neville learns could reach the Dark Lord at any time. His mind is not secure."
Neville was being plagued with visions and memories from Voldemort's head. Soon, Voldemort would learn to manipulate that connection. It was how he lured Harry into the trap that killed Sirius. It wasn't impossible that Voldemort could steal the knowledge told to Neville in good faith
"The Horcrux acts as a link," Harry said. "It's why Neville is a Parselmouth. I was too, until I got rid of the Horcrux."
"What do you think?" James turned the discussion onto Harry. "Should we tell him?"
Harry sighed. He sat back in his seat, which was a mistake. His ribs weren't healed yet. He winced and rubbed his stomach.
"I want to," Harry said. "I understand how it feels to be in the dark better than anyone. My heart says to do it! But… I've lived through what he's going through. The nightmares, the visions, the sense of unease, all of it feels like it's driving you crazy. Dumbledore's right. It isn't safe to tell him yet."
"But," Harry carried on, before they could interrupt, "I still remember when Voldemort shut me out. Once he realized the connection was there, after he exploited it, he blocked me from seeing anything I could use against him. Occlumency is the key. If Neville can learn it, then we tell him the truth. He deserves that much."
"A fair suggestion," Dumbledore said. "I will arrange lessons. Severus is skilled enough—"
"No!" Harry and James said together.
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm aware that the two of you have personal qualms with Professor Snape, but apart from myself he is the most skilled mind arts practitioner in the Order. There is no better teacher."
"No, and that's exactly the problem," Harry said. "He's a shite teacher. It doesn't matter how good his Occlumency is if he's got no interest in helping Neville."
"I think you underestimate Severus' ability to do things he doesn't wish to," Dumbledore said.
"If you tell him to do it, he'll do it. But he won't do it well," Harry insisted. "You tried this in my time and I learned nothing. Granted, he hated me more than he hates Neville, but he still won't do it right."
"If there's no one else then I'll do it," James said. "Better me than Severus."
Harry half-expected him to say Snivellus, but this James had grown up a lot from the young man Harry's father had been. James didn't hate Snape because of playground grudges.
He hated him because Snape was always toeing the line, playing with lives to keep himself breathing.
"A generous offer, but thoroughly unfeasible," Dumbledore said. "Your duties as Chief Warlock have you busy enough. Neville cannot leave the school and you cannot pay me too many visits. The Ministry is bound to be keeping track of your movements. It must be someone inside Hogwarts."
Harry and James looked at each other. At the same time, in the same way, they smiled.
"How about a teacher he actually likes?" Harry said.