The potion was wearing off by the time Harry reached the headmaster's office and the gargoyle looked menacingly at him as Harry tried to guess the password, throwing out random names of sweets when the door opened unexpectedly from the inside.

"Ah, Harry, Fawkes was convinced–"

"I have it, professor! The memory from Slughorn!" Harry interrupted, unable to contain his excitement.

At the sight of the memory glowing gently in its vessel flipped a switch in the headmaster's demeanour and a certain intensity seeped into his actions. He stood a little straighter and there in his face was a peculiar expression. A mixture of pride and excitement... tinged with a touch of grief or was it guilt? It was so fleeting that from one second to the next, it had already disappeared.

Dumbledore swept Harry into his tower and had the pensieve out in no time, the memory swirling within its depths, beckoning to the two...

Harry felt his feet fall away from his body and he was transported into the past and found himself face to face with a jovial and much younger Professor Slughorn. His hair was a richer colour and his office was filled with bright young faces. Very much unlike his office today – dreary and lonely, if compared to this picture of hospitality.

With Dumbledore by his side, studying the memory through his half-moon spectacles, Harry felt taken aback by how familiar Tom Riddle and Professor Slughorn were. In fact, everyone in that room seemed magnetised by the boy, charming and effortless. If Harry hadn't known who he would grow up to be, might he have befriended him?

As Tom began questioning Professor Slughorn about horcruxes, Harry saw his mask fall away. From under the boyish charms, there seems to lurk a sinister entity, as if he were being possessed. Good genes could only get you so far, and the Riddle boy was blessed with good looks... Though greed and arrogance twisted his features as he blatantly manipulated his Head of House to get the information that he wanted.

Finally, Professor Slughorn snapped and brushed the whole affair away like it were wisps of smoke.

"This is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic..." The professor said, trying to find himself a justification for discussing a topic that Dumbledore had explicitly banned, "Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..."

"And for good reason," Dumbledore said gruffly, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. "Very few seek immortality for the right reasons and fewer still achieve true immortality... there is always a cost..."

"Like the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded, "Exactly like that..."

The professor seemed more tired than Harry had ever seen him, weighed down by this new discovery.

"It confirms the theory that I've had, ever since you gave me that diary in your second year, Harry."

"The... diary? Sir?" Harry thought that Dumbledore might be losing his mind, but the headmaster smiled genially.

"I forget how much of the magical world is still new and foreign to you... While cursed artefacts might possess a person, it is not at all common for an artefact to gain sentience, and even rarer still, the ability to construct a new body for itself. No, when I heard that Ginny's death would mean his resurrection, I knew that Voldemort had managed to do it. He had made a Horcrux." Dumbledore paused, giving Harry a moment for his words to sink in.

"But... Voldermort isn't above murder, he isn't even above torturing children," Harry said, referencing a memory that they had visited earlier in the year. "Why are you surprised that he's made a Horcrux? With his murders, he could have easily made twenty."

"Yes, but as you saw for yourself, he was apprehensive about splitting his soul more than necessary... How much is too much? That's why he asked Professor Slughorn about the number of times a Horcrux can be made... and in his careless curiosity, he has given us one clue. Care to guess?"

"Seven is the most powerfully magical number." Harry repeated what Tom Riddle had said to Professor Slughorn all those years ago.

"I'm glad that little nugget of information did not go over your head," Dumbledore praised, "Seven Horcruxes, including the one that resides in his own body. You managed to take care of one by stabbing the diary with a Basilisk fang... and I..." he held up his mangled hand, "... was also able to destroy another I found in the ruins of the Marvolo mansion."

A heavy gold and black ring thudded on the table. From Slughorn's memory, the black gemstone protruded and gleamed, but this ring seemed to have been smashed open, leaving a gaping hole.

"The poison, Harry... it means that I might not have enough time to find all of them," seeing that Harry was about to interrupt him, Dumbledore held up his hand higher and pressed on, "you will need to continue what I have started."

"Isn't there–"

"We have exhausted all options," Dumbledore said kindly.

"How long?"

"Long enough." There was a note of finality in his words and Harry knew that it meant that he was done with the subject. "Now, based on what I know of Tom, he would have hidden at least one at Hogwarts... after all, it's the closest thing to a home he's ever had–"

Seeing the expression on Harry's face, Dumbledore reminded him that, "For Tom, he realised his full potential at this school, but you, Harry, you found your place. You're nothing alike."

Guilt welled up in Harry's eyes because here Professor Dumbledore had just stopped short of announcing his own death and yet he was still offering what little comforts that Harry needed.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions.

"Never be sorry for how you feel, Harry, it is only normal. I know I'm asking too much of you. I should be sorry for this burden I'm putting on your very young shoulders." Dumbledore paused before continuing, "Are you ready to continue?"

Harry nodded as enthusiastically as he could, determined to memorise everything that the headmaster had to say.

It was late when he was sent to bed by Dumbledore and he trudged sleepily to the four-poster bed waiting for him. He sank into his pillows, relieved that he was able to close his eyes.

But that relief was short-lived, as he was woken what felt like five minutes later, by Ron.

"Get a move on, Harry! The Hogwart's Express isn't going to wait for anyone!" Ron shouted, dragging his chest in order to retrieve something that had fallen.

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked beakley at his friend, "Blimey, Ron. What time is it?"

"It's time to pack! If you want to be in The Burrow for Christmas!" Ron said impatiently.

"Wait– where's– I need to speak to everyone." Harry grabbed his glasses which had fallen on the bed in his sleep and stumbled down into the common room. Hermione was sitting with Crookshanks in her lap and she was writing what seemed to be a letter.

"Hermione, why aren't you packed? You're coming to The Burrow with us, aren't you?" Harry asked.

"I've decided to stay here." She replied stiffly.

Ron stuck his neck out from behind Harry, "Stay here? Why? Mum's got the bed out for you an' everything."

Hermione shot Ron a cold glare and muttered, "I think I'll be more comfortable here, thanks. Won't your girlfriend want to visit?"

"Oh, er, I didn't think to invite..." Ron scratched his head, trying to hold in what he desperately wanted to know. "Is your... friend... staying. Here? Too?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Sick of the banter, Harry spoke up, "Alright, we don't have much time. I need to tell you, all of you, what Dumbledore told me. Let's go."

"Let's go?" Ron asked, looking after Harry and Hermione as they made a move to leave Gryffindor tower, "And what? Are we going to waltz into the dungeons and say 'Hey, Draco! A word, please?'"

To answer his question, Hermione held a shiny Galleon up above her head and was out the door before Ron could react. He was torn between staying to pack, but at last, his feet took him out the door and brought him to the Room of Requirements.

When he arrived, he was annoyed. If I weren't for Draco, they'd be having this meeting right there in their common room. But no, because of that snake, he found himself grumbling and freezing as he headed in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, stopping right before the right turn, and walking past the blank wall over and over again. He wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic that morning and he forcefully ignored the fact that the dungeons were a much longer walk... Which meant that Draco was nowhere to be found when he flung the doors open.

"Couldn't he just come to Gryffindor tower? There's hardly anyone left." Ron continued grumbling.

"You do realise that our dorm and this room aren't all that far apart?" Hermione said while shaking her head and fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Maybe we should all just gather in the Great Hall and have him sit with us instead."

Draco arrived dressed in his best suit. Ron spared a quick glance at his hand-me-down robes and patchy pyjamas before hugging the cushion he was holding closer to him, "Good of you to join us."

The Slytherin smiled at the opportunity and opened his hands wide towards Harry, "Hero Potter beckons."

Ignore the banter, Harry dove right into his story, sparing no details, and ending it with a pointed, "What do you know about Horcruxes?"

Draco gave a noncommittal shrug and said at the same time as Ron:

"I'm sure Hermione would know."
"I think I've heard of it before."

They shot each other with disgusted looks. For Ron, it was because Draco's words were an admission of familiarity towards the Dark Arts. Whereas in Draco's case, it was because he couldn't fathom why anyone would depend on someone else's brains other than their own.

"I don't," Hermione admitted. "I've almost read every book in the forbidden section of the library ever since Harry mentioned it... But I have the entire Christmas break to read the rest."

"You're staying?" Draco said with a hint of surprise.

"Oh, yeah, last minute decision." Hermione replied before turning back to Harry. "But these things sound awfully dangerous... you said that Dumbledore doesn't have long left?"

"He didn't go into detail," Harry said heavily.

"And he wants us to go after these highly dangerous artefacts?" Hermione sounded a bit grim, questioning the headmaster's judgement.

"Apparently so. Since you're staying, do you think you could look into what kind of artefact Voldemort–"

"– I thought we had agreed to use 'Tom'!"

"–would use as a vessel for his soul?" Harry soldiered through, ignoring Draco's little outburst.

The girl inclined her head, an acknowledgement and a promise. With that, the two boys went back to their packing and left Draco alone with Hermione, not without any resistance, though. Harry urged Hermione to walk them back to Gryffindor tower, but she said she would rather stay since she was in no hurry to go anywhere. The matter of Ron and Lavender wasn't just causing a rift in Ron and Hermione's friendship, but it was also pushing Hermione towards Draco, a thought that made Harry grit his teeth.

But secretly, Harry hoped that Hermione's continued tiff with Ron meant that she still had feelings for him... And if she had feelings for Ron, she couldn't possibly have feelings for Draco.

If only he knew what happened behind closed doors.

Draco took his place beside Hermione and took her hand, "I wish you had told me you were staying. In fact, I could write my mother right this inst–"

"Don't be silly, Draco." Hermione said, pretending that his warm lithe fingers on the back of her hand weren't sending waves of pleasure up her arm and constricting her chest. "Your mother needs you, probably now more than ever."

Her words, though true, felt like rejection.

"Very well," he said, "I know you'll stay safe, you're too bright to put yourself in harm's way. But if you need anything..." he pulled his hand away from hers and immediately she started missing the sensation of his skin against hers. She looked up in time to see him flashing the golden Galleon, "I'm only one Galleon away."

Hermione watched as Draco left the Room of Requirement and went back to scribbling what Harry had thought was a letter. It was a list of the Horcruxes that Harry had described.

Seven Horcruxes, one in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, two destroyed, a pet snake, Hufflepuff's cup, Slytherin's locket... and the final one would have to be a relic of Ravenclaw.

Hermione then decided that her first course of action was to speak to the Ravenclaw ghost. She slipped out of the Room of Requirement and made her way towards the Gryffindor towers in an attempt to find Nearly Headless Nick so she could question him. With no such luck, she retrieved her copy of Hogwart's A History and began thumbing through it because she was sure there was some mention of a lost diadem...

Before she knew it, it was time for dinner and she hurried to the Great Hall since she knew that the ghosts often made their appearances during mealtimes, though it wasn't a guarantee. Dinner was a quiet affair, since many of the students had gone home for the holidays and Hermione guessed that a certain Dark Lord's return to power might also be a reason for parents to want their children home with them.

Hermione had wanted to return home to her parents and to escape into normalcy, but ever since she received her letter from Hogwarts and her entry into the Wizarding World, she struggled to find a place for herself in the muggle world. She had joined one summer camp for advanced mathematics, but she found it a challenge to connect with others her age. She might have excelled and was awarded a certificate of excellence, but she didn't manage to make any friends. Perhaps her heart just wasn't in it. When a world of actual magic exists, her old life could be rather dull.

There was another reason why she wanted to spend Christmas at Hogwarts... Come what may, she wouldn't be spending Christmas with her parents until the Dark Lord is defeated and while many with that knowledge might snatch any remaining opportunity to spend time with their family, Hermione decided it was more practical to experience Christmas on her own.

The next day, she decided to visit an old friend. Walking down to his hut, Hermione could see black smoke exiting from the chimney and she grimaced at the thought of what he might be doing.

"Hatching another dragon's egg?" Hermione called out loudly upon discovering that the front door was unlocked. His boarhound, having scented Hermione from afar, came bounding into her and Hagrid followed from behind.

"'Ermione! I thought I saw yeh during breakfast. What are yer doing here? No Christmas with the family? Oh! Blimey, must have left the pot on..." Hagrid scrambled to the open fireplace and grabbed the pot by its sizzling hot handle before flinging it into the sink.

"Are you okay!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to him and checking his hands which were blistering.

"Ah, 'tis fine. Nuthin' a lil snow can't fix." Hagrid opened a window and grabbed some snow that had accumulated around the gutter and pressed his palms together. "What brings yeh here? Bit chilly to be walking 'round."

"Just wanted to see a friendly face," Hermione beamed, "Oh! And I was wondering, do you happen to know where I might find the Grey Lady?"

Hagrid raised a bushy brow, "The Grey Lady yeh say? She's mighty timid, tha' one. Always lurking in shadows, never one ter join the festivities. I think she migh've liked ter get away from the Baron's..." he raised his armed and mimed walking with heavy chains. "I s'pose it reminds her of how she, you know..." Hagrid turned his head sideways and drew a quick line in front of his neck with his thumb.

"I don't think I've heard the story of the Baron? The ghost of Slytherin?"

"It's a nasty story, the man killed himself after killin' the love of his life, though, if yeh ask me, he couldn't have loved her all that much, then, could he? If he was able to run his knife through 'er?" Hagrid shared gruffly.

"Do you think the Bloody Baron might help me find her?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"I think he would scare her away, is what I think. Now, I have some hot cakes, yeh look jus' abou' to freeze to death, Hermione, wha' abou' a cuppa?"

Hermione couldn't say no to his generosity, much like all the times she sat here with Ron and Harry, scarfing down Hagrid's confections despite it being a bit hard to swallow, sometimes.

"Now, wha' yer goin' abou' with this business with the Bloody Baron?" Hagrid asked.

"There's something that I'd like to ask the Grey Lady..." Hermione confided, "Dumbledore's orders."

"Ah, I see... I see, well if it's under Dumbledore's instructions... You best get on with it." Hagrid said, wrapping up a few cookies for Hermione, "Here. Take some of 'em. Always make more than I can finish anyway..."

Hermione took the parcel from Hagrid graciously, thanking him as she went up the hill, wondering if she should have gotten Felix Felicias back from Harry. He had only needed a sip to retrieve the information from Professor Slughorn afterall.

Time seemed to stretch on without her friends by her side but at the same time, she felt as if there weren't enough hours for her to hunt down the information she was sure lurked within the four walls of Hogwarts. With each passing day, she got more agitated, until one lucky evening when she was taking a stroll through the courtyard did she see a lithe transparent figure floating into the castle walls.

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she made a mad dash for the interior, hoping to catch the ghost before she vanished into another wall.

"Helena?" She called out and the ghost paused for a moment to appraise her. She took in Hermione's muggle outfit paired with a red and gold scarf before turning away.

"Wait. Please, I have a question for you." Hermione said and Helena turned back to face Hermione in silence, giving her the opportunity to speak.

"Do you know what You-Know-Who has done to your mother's diadem?"

It was not at all what the ghost of Ravenclaw expected to hear and to be honest, it did intrigue her to see what a Gryffindor may know about it. The ghost floated closer to Hermione with a bit more interest.

"Somehow he got his hands on it and turned it into an abomination, desecrated it with black magic."

"Desecrated? He defiled it." Helena said in a voice that made Hermione's hair stand on end. "And he didn't get his hands on it... I gave it to him."

At her words, Hermione took a violent step back from her, swaying from the thought that she was once charmed by Tom Riddle. "Gave it to him?" Hermione clarified.

"If you have come to judge–" Helena said coldly, rising into the air as though threatening to fly through the ceiling.

"No! I have come to ask you to help us defeat him. When he defiled your mother's diadem, he locked a piece of himself away in it... as long as it exists, You-Know-Who will never die."

"My mother's diadem has to be destroyed?" There was an unreadable expression on the ghost's face and her translucence didn't help much either.

"If you want to see You-Know-Who gone, yes." Hermione answered her honestly. "Will you help?"

Helena gave a little cackle, it was both sad and exasperated, "He kept it here... at Hogwarts."

"Where?" Hermione prompted.

"Someplace he thought he alone held the key to..." Helena stared off into the distance, seemingly preoccupied with a memory in a different time.

"Where?" Hermione asked again, desperate not to lose the ghost's attention but Helena had drifted into a wall, but not before departing another nugget of information.

"If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask..."