Returning to the Gryffindor common room, Ariana bypassed the cheerful, noisy celebration of Harry's success in the second task. She needed silence. She needed to think. She made her way to the Owlery, the cool night air a welcome balm after the intensity of her meeting with Dumbledore.
She stood at the open archway, looking out at the star-dusted sky, the vast, silent expanse a mirror of the immense and complex map now laid out in her mind. She sighed, a soft, weary exhalation that was rare for her. The victory over the locket was significant, but it had only served to bring the full, daunting scale of the task ahead into sharp focus.
One by one, she mentally cataloged the remaining pieces of Voldemort's shattered soul.
The Diadem of Ravenclaw. This was the simplest variable. She knew, from the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw and from her own deep exploration of the Room of Requirement's properties, that it was hidden within the castle itself, within her own secret sanctuary. She could retrieve it at her leisure. The plan was already formulated: another session of soul-surgery, another containment sphere. She would deal with it before the end of the term, a quiet, methodical neutralization of a threat lurking in her own backyard. That was a problem she could control.
The Ring of the Gaunts. Marvolo Gaunt's ring, containing not just a Horcrux but also one of the three Deathly Hallows—the Resurrection Stone. This was Dumbledore's current focus, she knew. Her knowledge pointed to the ruins of the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton. But it was also protected by dark, vicious curses, the kind born of ancient, paranoid pure-blood magic.
Dumbledore, in his quiet pride and his desire to protect others, would likely attempt to retrieve it alone. A mistake, she thought, her mind cold and analytical. He will succeed, but at a great personal cost. The memory of the withered, blackened hand from the original story flashed in her mind. She made a mental note: she would have to subtly intervene, to provide him with research on curse-breaking and regenerative potions before he undertook his quest, framing it as an academic curiosity. She would not allow him to sacrifice himself so carelessly.
Nagini. This was not just a Horcrux; it was a living being. A victim. Ariana's mind shifted from that of a strategist to that of a healer. She remembered the intelligent, lonely, and pain-filled hisses from the serpent in the Chamber. She remembered Dobby's words: "He promised to give her the memory of his youth to keep her company." Voldemort had not just used Nagini; he had preyed on her Maledictus-born loneliness, offering a twisted companionship in exchange for her servitude and, eventually, her soul's vessel.
Ariana's vow to Astoria now extended to the one who had been lost for so much longer. The Maledictus curse, she had learned, was triggered by despair. Could it be reversed by hope? If she could extract the Horcrux from Nagini, could the woman trapped inside the beast ever find her way back? The thought of having another family member, a great-grandmother of sorts, was a strange, illogical, but deeply compelling idea. Nagini was not just an objective; she was a patient.
That left two final, terrible pieces. One was Harry himself, the accidental Horcrux, a problem for a future so fraught with danger she walled it off in her mind for now.
And the last one… Hufflepuff's Cup.
This was the most immediate and complex logistical problem. Her research pointed to one owner: Bellatrix Lestrange. And Bellatrix would not keep such a treasure in her house. It would be in the safest place she knew: her vault at Gringotts. A vault protected by ancient goblin magic, dragons, and enchantments that would make the protections around the Philosopher's Stone look like a child's puzzle box.
Ariana knew, with absolute certainty, that she could not breach Gringotts alone. This was not a task for logic or singular power. This would require a team. It would require stealth, misdirection, and a specific set of skills she did not possess. It would require external help.
She sighed again, the weight of it all settling on her. The world saw her as a brilliant, powerful prodigy. Dumbledore saw her as a secret weapon. Her friends saw her as their unshakable anchor. But here, alone in the silence of the Owlery, she felt the immense, crushing weight of the secret war she was waging almost entirely on her own. She was the architect of a future no one else could see, and the burden of that knowledge was a heavy one.
A soft hoot startled her. A familiar barn owl landed on the railing beside her, offering its leg. It was Hedwig. Attached was a small, hastily scribbled note from Harry.
Ariana,
Ron and I made up. He finally came to his senses after the task. He said he was a git. He's right. Just thought you should know. Thanks again for everything. We're all back together.
Harry
A small, genuine smile touched Ariana's lips, breaking through her somber thoughts. The smaller battles, the skirmishes of friendship and loyalty, were just as important as the great war. Her team was whole again. Her support structure was secure.
The weight on her shoulders didn't disappear, but it lessened. She was not entirely alone. She had her allies, her friends, her family. And armed with that knowledge, she felt her resolve harden once more. The path was dark and complex, but she would navigate it. One logical, brilliant, and decisive step at a time.