Unveiling Destiny: Harry Potter and the Triwizard Revelation

Stay true to yourself.

Be better than I.

Be more.

Be worthy.

Become my true heir.

That was it. The final words on the final page. The final chapter of Salazar Slytherin's memoir.

Harry sat back, shut his eyes, and let it all sink in.

Be more. Be worthy, become my true heir.

If someone had told him those would've been the final words from his teacher, he wouldn't have believed it.

And yet, the final page left a question, a concern.

Harry had been following Tom Riddle's path and he'd had a sneaking suspicion that the trail would lead to a choice, a decision. One that he'd either fail and fall, or one that would differentiate him from Voldemort entirely.

He had two choices here. Do the ritual or do not.

Not doing the ritual would mean leaving the magic unbalanced and would end in his death.

That result was guaranteed .

The only slim chance he'd have would be to devise a 49th ritual that balanced his set of seven and the entire set altogether.

Daphne had access to the academic side of ritualistic knowledge, but nothing on the practical side. Harry had the opposite and he was certain it had been done this way so he wouldn't be able to craft an alternative to the final ritual.

He was on a train, the tracks ahead were split, and his momentous momentum was such that he had little choice but to go one way or the other. Stopping or getting off the train hadn't been an option for a long time now. All that he had left to do was select which track he'd end on.

But this still left him with the issue of how it had led to Riddle doing Horcruxes?

Slughorn had told him that he thought Riddle's knowledge of Horcruxes and the idea of seven came later… unless he knew of Horcruxes from somewhere else, prior to this?

Harry sighed and pulled on his hair. This was going to suck. Mess with his soul or die.

Of those, he really had only one path forward. Mess with his soul, experience excruciating pain, and become worthy.

He wasn't sure if it was relief or apprehension that he felt as Daphne came into the study. She looked at him, her eyes full of worry as she frowned at him, his hands were still pulling on the ends of his hair.

"That bad?" she asked, heading towards her favourite chair.

Harry nodded his head. "The ritual is an improved version of the Horcrux ritual."

His words caused Daphne to halt mid-step. "H-Horcrux?"

It was as Daphne sputtered out the word that Fleur came in. A frown immediately marred her face when she heard the word. " Non, 'arry. You must not do any soul rituals."

"It's not a horcrux. Salazar claims it's an improved version," Harry said, though the words rang hollow even to his own ears.

"Improved or not, soul magic is still soul magic," Fleur said, crossing her arms.

He smiled at that, she looked so cute when she was upset at him. "What would you have me do, then?" Harry asked, a feeling of tiredness overcoming him. "Not do a forty-ninth ritual?"

"Non, but you 'ave time, 'arry," she replied, her voice softer and sympathetic. "I can ask maman to petition for the conclave for 'elp as you are my mate."

Fleur made her way to him and crouched down to his height. "Don't do it, 'arry," she pleaded, her blue eyes shining."All anyone needs to know about soul rituals is that they shouldn't ever be done."

"Perhaps he should open the ritual book and see what he has to do?" Daphne said, interjecting into Fleur's plea. "We know the horcrux ritual requires callous murder as a part of it. If there isn't any killing, then it can't be an actual Horcrux ritual."

Harry found himself nodding along as Daphne spoke. He took her advice and pulled out the ritual book, reading it over. As he read through it he discovered how it was done. "It's… just… a spell?"

"Nothing but a single spell?"

"Yeah, that's it," Harry said, frowning before he answered Daphne. "I just have to channel the spell and let it do its work. The longer I channel the spell, the more difficult and painful it will be. The notes recommend I keep going until I pass out, if I can."

"Until you pass out? Until you run out of magic or succumb to pain?" Daphne raised an eyebrow.

Harry looked at her. "It doesn't specify," he said with a shrug. Just says to keep on going until I can't."

"Does it describe the effects?" Fleur asked as she stood back.

"It says there would be a magical outline of me," Harry said, almost squinting as he read back over it more carefully. "And… then it looks like it separates and is pulled from my body? The further it is pulled, the more excruciating it will be."

"What about the object?" Daphne asked, her intelligent eyes watching him closely. "Are there any requirements for it?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, his eyes still looking at the book. "Just about any object will do. It recommends something that has value though."

"Wouldn't want to make it something that could be misplaced or lost easily," Daphne reasoned. "It'll have a piece of your soul in it."

Harry looked back at her, the cool detached way she could look at things was admirable. It was quite a contrast to Fleur who would have a storm raging around her if emotions were localized weather.

"Should I test the spell?" Harry asked, just wanting to get this figured out. If it required channelling just casting it briefly should be fine?

" Non! If you're going to play around with your soul, we should seek others' help," Fleur said. "You can do it anytime today, non?"

Harry frowned and then nodded. That was a fair point. "I can… but who would I ask?"

"Slughorn knows about Horcruxes but not the mechanics of this ritual," Daphne said, crossing one leg over the other. "In my family, I'm the most knowledgeable…"

"I'd have considered Dumbledore," Harry said, closing the ritual book. "But if I bring up rituals and soul magic… I'm not sure how he'll respond."

The threat on his life had been the last real interaction with the man. Dumbledore would be knowledgeable, but to what degree? Bringing the topic up could cause a whole heap of trouble. "No, I can't trust him to look out for me."

Harry looked from Daphne to Fleur, the former not having any other ideas.

" Maman," Fleur said, after a moment. "I don't know 'ow much she knows but she taught me the Veela ones and warned me off soul magic."

Harry found himself agreeing with that. Apolline had been aware of his foray into rituals. She'd discussed them and their potential to affect emotions with him. He glanced over at Daphne and received no more than a curt nod.

"Alright, Apolline is one candidate and the only other person I'd consider is Flitwick," Harry said, making up his mind on the plan for the day. "I'll sound out Flitwick; he has a vast knowledge of all sorts of magic."

"'E'd be good," Fleur said, placing her hand on his arm. "You'll talk to both?"

"I think so," Harry replied. He was about to say more but sensed Cuddles returning from her morning hunt. Normally he'd have been training but today wasn't a day he was going to be bothering with that.

Harry looked to the door and watched Cuddles fly into the room. She went right to him and clutched onto his shirt, holding on to him vertically on his chest. An unbidden smile came to him and he brought the hand that wasn't touching Fleur up to hold her in place. His thumb and fingers moved of their own volition, the muscle memory used to simultaneously hold and pet Cuddles.

"Do you want us there with you, or do you want to talk to them by yourself?" Daphne asked, her neutral expression impossible to read.

Harry looked at Fleur and had hoped she might indicate a preference but she did not. He dropped his gaze to Cuddles and kept up his petting of miniature dragon.

At the end of the day, this was his life, his decision. He knew he had their support, Natalia's too. He wouldn't begrudge Fleur coming to visit her mum but he hoped it was just him. He wanted to hear and go through this alone.

It wasn't that he was going to do this solo, not at all. It just felt like he needed some time to talk to people he trusted and come to a decision on his own. Fleur was wholly against this. Daphne was for him living, though she hadn't come out and given an actual opinion yet. Natalia, he thought, would be on the side of doing the ritual. She'd understand him doing nasty things that were necessary.

"I'd prefer to go alone," Harry said, his eyes coming back up to look between the two of them. "If that's okay."

Daphne shot him a half-smile as she stood. "I'll research anything I can in here about it. I'll be here all day, Harry."

Harry swallowed as he nodded. He looked to Fleur and rubbed her arm. "If you'd like to go alone, I can 'elp search 'ere."

"Thanks," he said and then squeezed her arm.

"Is Natalia coming, or is she too busy with ballet?" Daphne asked the seemingly innocuous question that they knew was anything but.

Harry sighed, they deserved an explanation but he'd held off. "Natalia is… adjusting."

"Adjusting?" Fleur questioned sharply, her blue eyes cold and hard as ice.

"Yeah," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. "She's had a major change."

"You didn't tell us how the ritual went, yet," Daphne said, from off to Harry's left, her fingers running over the spines of books.

"It went well," Harry said, gripping Fleur's arm once more. "She's loyal but there's a lot to it…"

"Harry," Flitwick said, squeaking his name after catching sight of him entering his office. "This is a surprise." He offered Harry the chair at his desk.

Harry twitched his finger to the side and the chair pulled out from the desk. He stood in front of it and then repeated the trick to have it slide under him.

"Impressive as always," Flitwick said, chuckling as he did so. "But what brings you here, now, Harry?"

Their lessons were always later in the day and Harry had made a point to not disturb him or McGonagall during the day. "I'm nearing the end of my rituals…" Harry paused and thought over what he should divulge, again.

"There is a ritual that is beyond what you'd be comfortable doing?" Flitwick asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he pushed the parchment he had been marking off to the side.

"Yes," Harry admitted, his restless hands ringing together. "Though I worry about the consequence of not doing it."

Flitwick dipped his chin. "Is it a moral element or in a field of magic that makes you ill at ease?"

Harry looked down at his clasped together hands. His fingers and thumbs were far from idle even conjoined. He looked back up, "Magical."

"It's a magical issue, not something you have to do to make the magic work?" Flitwick's eyes were narrowed but they held no accusation in them.

"No," Harry shook his head. "It's the effect that I'm worried about. The ritual itself is fine."

Flitwick hummed but did not say anything else. After a few seconds of silence, he withdrew his wand. "Magic, Harry, has four pillars."

"Creativity, Magical power, Intent and Willpower." The raven-haired youth intoned from memory.

"Indeed," Flitwick said, without looking at Harry, his focus entirely on his wand. A small stream of water came forth from the wand, extending out six inches and then it coalesced into a small ball of water.

"Magic is supremely simple," he said, not taking his focus off the slowly expanding ball of water. "Each pillar is so simple to understand; and yet, how they work in tandem is incredibly complex."

The ball of crystal clear water continued to be fed more and more water and Flitwick brought forward his off-hand, bringing it alongside the water and thrusting it forward, he forced the ball of water to spin, his fingers coming as close to touching it as possible, without doing so.

"Magic is balance, it is nature," he said, his eyes flicking over to look at Harry. "It is a part of the world, bound by it, and yet it is not."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked, his voice quiet and eyes darting back and forth between him and the spinning ball of water.

"I have just done the impossible. I have created something from nothing. A natural element, something that is a part of this world and follows the physical rules," Flitwick explained as the ball of water spun faster and grew larger, coming to be about half a foot in diameter now.

"I created this, I imparted my will on the world. I imagined it, intended to make it, and used my power to create something that goes against nature itself," Flitwick said. He had a soft smile on his face and it was incredibly easy to understand how much the man loved to teach.

"Not natural but as it grows, it feels heavy, it wants to come apart and splash all over the ground. But, when I apply physical laws, when I spin it, providing centrifugal force, it requires less power, creativity, will and even less intent." It was just after speaking that he stabbed his wand forward into the ball of water and with a single downward slash, he vanished it all.

"When nature and magic work in cohesion, you achieve great results. However, when you use magic to go against nature, the costs are significant."

Harry nodded, he already knew this and was unsure of where this was leading. He turned his chin slightly to the right as he narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. Instead of being impatient and asking for him to get to the point, Harry waited quietly, trying to keep calm, cool and collected.

"There are some that would argue it is only your intent that matters," Flitwick said, placing his wand down onto the desk, his finger steepling together. "But I've always believed this to be in error. If you are doing something wrong but for the right intent, you are still doing something wrong ."

Harry nodded, Salazar had talked about the blending of the four pillars so none could work alone. Pureness of intent, alone, wouldn't be enough to absolve oneself, in Harry's opinion.

"What does intent matter when you have the will to do evil, wrong?" Flitwick asked. "How does intent remove your ability to create and power evil?"

Harry swallowed, his eyes meeting the professor. "I don't think it does," he said, thinking about the death of Lucius Malfoy. No matter how pure his intent to do good, by committing that act, it still bothered him, tainted him.

"You asked about being uncomfortable with a ritual," Flitwick said, bringing the topic back to the start of their conversation. "You've come a long way in magical sensing and I believe you should trust in that sense."

"You think if I feel something off that I shouldn't do it?" Harry said, not meaning to fully question the man's words but that response had seemed inadequate given all the build-up to it.

Flitwick chuckled, the noise emanating from him coming out equal parts light laughter and softened squeals. "Yes and no," he said, his eyes flashed with amusement for just a second. "The point I was making was that if you are already worried about the effect it will have, then listen to your magic."

Harry eyed the man, his lips thinning as his eyebrows squished together. He hadn't understood the difference and was still struggling to come up with it.

"How difficult is it? Is it heavy, thick and terribly difficult to perform? Is it going against nature at a fundamental level?"

Harry's eyes widened and his hand came up and rubbed his chin. "You're saying, I should be able to tell how wrong it is by how difficult it is to perform?"

Flitwick shook his head slowly. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't already know the ritual is one you shouldn't consider doing," he said, no accusation in his eyes nor voice. "It is the cost that I am warning you of. You know the feel of conjuration, you know what cruel and disgusting magic can feel like. Keep those in mind when you do your ritual. Make sure it's a cost you can bear."

Harry's lips curved into a scowl, "I've not decided to do it yet."

Flitwick gave him a smile that moved naught but his lips, his eyes beheld him in pity this time. Picking up his wand he conjured a perfect sphere. Though Harry didn't know the exact spell, he could feel that the man hardened it.

"Think of this sphere as your body, the empty space as the place for magical power to be stored." As he spoke those words he began to fill the clear sphere with fluid. "Rituals take what you are born with and increase it." He added more liquid into the sphere until it was entirely filled.

"There are various types of goals with rituals, however, one prominent thing always features," he said, his eyes focused on the circle filled with water. "The goal is to increase your magical potential. Densifying the magic, increasing the amount of magic you can hold, protecting your body for having more magic than it can handle…" he trailed off.

"All rituals are about increasing your propensity for magic," Flitwick said, his wand in continual motion as he conjured a protective barrier and placed it between them and the sphere. "The issue most practitioners have is balance. Too much magic and…" he didn't need to say what would occur as the sphere shattered, water bursting forth as it couldn't handle the pressure inside.

"Too much power and not enough capacity to handle it," Harry said, remarking on the result, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"How about now?" Flitwick asked, as he repaired the sphere and only filled it to three-quarters of its full capacity. He then began to swirl the water into different streams that ran in all directions, hammering the boundaries and trying to breakthrough.

"Too much volatility, excitement," Harry said, feeling less and less at ease with the demonstrations. After he'd spoken, it only took a few seconds for the sphere to explode apart.

"You asked me what would happen in a failure to balance your magic," Flitwick said, vanishing everything he had conjured. "Well, without knowing the precise details of your situation, I can't give you specifics. But, as my demonstration shows, your body's ability to contain your magic will fail. It may not be immediate, it may not happen for some time. But, at some point in the future, you'll either have to balance your magic or face a gruelling, painful end.

"Harry!" Apolline said, startled by his appearance in her home. "If you're looking for Fleur or Patrice, neither are at home at the moment."

Harry smiled at her gratefully. "I came to talk with you, actually," he said. "I know where Fleur is and I'll meet with her again later."

Apolline smiled at him warmly and closed the distance between them, wrapping him up in a hug. "It is good to see you, my son."

"Thanks," Harry said as they broke apart. She'd taken to calling him that immediately and had told him there was no pressure for him to call him mother. Harry still hadn't come to a decision on but it felt off-putting to do so. She was as close to a mother as he'd ever had but Lily Potter had died for him and it was something he'd never disrespect.

"How is my daughter? I haven't seen her the past few days," Appoline remarked as she led him toward an informal sitting area.

"She's good," Harry said, as he sat down in the chair he always preferred. Large, comfortable and with enough space for Fleur to cuddle up to him.

"I still cannot believe she gained the gift of parseltongue," she said as she took her wand out and conjured water for the tea set. "Tea?"

"Sure, that'd be great," he replied, relaxing into the comfortable seat and inviting presence. The hint of mint in the air was always pleasant to smell as well.

Apolline finished making the tea and floated a cup and saucer to Harry. "So, where is my daughter?"

"She and Daphne are researching something today," Harry said, gently accepting the saucer and cup of hot tea. He brought it closer to his nose and gave it a sniff, it was minty as well.

Apolline arched an eyebrow, "Are they getting along?" she asked. "I know my daughter can be… difficult."

Harry smiled ruefully. "She's more tolerant of Daphne than Natalia. Though, so far, it hasn't been too bad."

"I can see that, Patrice and I were not keen on your association with them," she said, after taking the first sip of her drink. "But, time will tell how wise it was."

"Well," Harry said, "Natalia is loyal, if nothing else. They hold no leverage and I avoided their trap. So far, things have gone well."

"So far," she echoed. "But you didn't come here to talk about the Pavlov family, now did you?" Apolline placed her tea down before folding her hands together.

"No, I came to speak on rituals, again."

"You are at the end then?" she asked, her sharp eyes focusing on him.

"The last one's…" Harry said, his voice heavy while remaining quiet still, "… a soul ritual."

Apolline's eyes widened. She had just begun to bring her teacup back, after having let it momentarily cool down, but now, she froze. "A soul ritual," she said, only her lips moving.

"An improved version of a Horcrux," Harry said, his voice flat and body rigid.

"Or so they say," Apolline said, her tea now delicately balanced on the saucer she held on her lap.

"The ritual is supposed to bind my soul to an object of my choosing," he said, frowning as he began an explanation he would rather avoid.

Apolline pinched her lips together before bringing up her cup and drinking more tea. When the cup no longer blocked the view of her lips, they were still in their earlier position. "You must know my advice already, Fleur is not one to bite her tongue."

Harry bobbed his head, "I wanted to hear what you might know about soul magic." Harry rubbed his forehead as he gazed down into his teacup. If only there were some tea leaves to leave a clear sign of what to do.

But there wasn't. And there wasn't going to be any easy answers. Two terrible choices and no path around the fact he had to complete a ritual.

"The soul is sacred. It is a manifestation of self, of magic." Apolline's voice carried through the quiet room, her words strong though lacking in volume. "Magic that uses the soul is amongst the most beautiful."

Harry's forehead creased as he tried to think of a spell or magic that related to the soul.

"The Patronus spell," she said, answering his question. "Is thought to be partly manifested through the soul of the caster. Where some spells have set results and ways to cast them, calling forth a Patronus does not."

Harry watched as she took another sip of tea. There wasn't any sort of sexual attraction to his pseudo-mother. It was admiration and respect. Apolline was astute and knowledgeable. Even just her presence was impressive. She carried herself in such a way that you couldn't help but be impressed. And, it was with humbling realization that Harry came to understand his mate would be like her mother.

"Everyone's being unique and the guardian animal is not one that is consciously shaped by intent." Harry quirked his head in thought after voicing his thought out loud.

"Most good soul magic is obscure and ill-advised to be tampered with. They all revolve around the expression of the soul, not tampering with it." Her sharp words cut through Harry's thoughts and drew his eyes back to her.

"Is it tampering with it though?" Harry asked, as much to himself as to Apolline. "I'm not fracturing it, tearing it apart or doing anything to change it. All it is supposed to do is bind it so that if I fall, if I die, I'll have another opportunity."

"And you don't think that's unnatural?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. That word was one Flitwick had been cautioning him on, his earlier discussion playing over in his mind again. "What option do I have?" he asked, his chin tucked towards his chest but his gaze meeting hers. "Leave my magic horribly unbalanced and try to find a way to balance the seventh set of seven, and the rest of the sets?"

Apolline eyes narrowed, "Have you not already messed around with soul magic?" she asked carefully.

"I know of Horcruxes but I'd never split my soul," Harry said, his eyes blazing at the very idea of it.

"Non," she held up her hand, "that's not what I meant," she said, smiling at him reassuringly, though the smile came out somewhat strained, unlike the large one he always received upon visiting.

"I meant your dragon, Cuddles."

Harry's head snapped back and his eyes widened. "Cuddles?"

"She's a real dragon, one with a soul," Apolline said. "I can tell you that much. A dragon with a soul and somehow imbued and empowered by mixing its own magic and yours."

"I've been experimenting with her," Harry said, a smile tugging on his lips. "Cuddles is special, a happy accident if I'm being honest."

"An accident?" her eyebrows couldn't have climbed any higher if she'd used her fingers to push them up.

"The dragons shouldn't have died," Harry said, admitting one of the things he had been worried about others discovering forever ago, at the start of the tournament. "They'd been drugged and instead of syphoning off draconic magic, leaving them weak, their already overly taxed magic couldn't handle it."

Apolline blinked, then blinked again. "They died because of a ritual you did?" she asked, her tone one of disbelief.

"The Ministry's investigation showed they'd been overdosed and had been put to sleep, literally," Harry chuckled at his word selection for a second before shaking his head. "But they would have had no way to account for the ritual I had done the night before the task.

"When the dragon avatar was in the ritual circle with me, it, along with I, gained some of the dragon's dense magic," Harry said, with Apolline having placed her tea down and leaned forward, listening to every syllable intently. "The best I can figure, some of my magic is in Cuddles and some of hers, and the other dragons, are within me."

"Mon Dieu," Apolline whispered, her hand flying to cover her mouth as the words escaped her lips.

Harry just grinned, after taking a gulp of his lovely lemon and mint tea. "If you think that's something, wait til I tell you about what I've figured out about Cuddles," he said, his eyes alight with mischief, fully enjoying making Apolline astonished. "She has characteristics of all three of the dragons, if you know what to look for, and other things that are not normal for a dragon."

Apolline had regained her composure, though he could tell she was quite enjoying this conversation now, especially, he thought, because it turned away from soul magic. "Cuddle's fire is corrosive ."

"Corrosive?" Apolline asked, a single eyebrow arched.

"It eats through fire retardant wards, ones designed to stand up to dragon fire," Harry said, grinning once more. It was lovely to just talk and relax, even if it was just a short respite to his mentally, emotionally taxing day.

"I think I'll need more tea for this," Apolline said, shaking her head before floating the kettle and tipping it, so her cup was refilled. "Did you want some?"

"Sure, it'll take a bit to explain," Harry chuckled, getting settled in to discuss the properties of basilisk venom and phoenix tears.

"Harry my boy, what's brought you here tonight?" Horace's jolly voice boomed out upon him entering into the man's favourite room to sit in and enjoy a drink.

He wasn't surprised to find the man seated in the same chair as always, a drink in hand. Given the rosiness of his cheeks, it was less than likely it was the first, or second one, for that matter.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked, his eyes alight with merriment.

"Sure, but don't trouble yourself, I'll fix something up," Harry said, having been here on many occasions, he already knew where to find a butterbeer and he'd become accomplished enough to open it wandlessly by now.

Just after he'd sat down and the butterbeer had been grasped by his hand. "Thought you'd be spending the night with one of your lovely fiances," Horace said and then waggled his eyebrows before letting out a deep belly laugh.

"Three girls," he said, shaking his head. "I still remember when you refused to even think about more than one." Slughorn chortled and then gulped down the rest of whatever it was that he had been drinking.

Another bottle floated out and Harry could see he was drinking brandy. He waited for Horace to complete his pour. "I'll be seeing them soon but I wanted to stop by and just chat," Harry said, fingers raking through his dark messy hair.

"Something on your mind?" Horace asked, looking remarkably more sober as he sat up straight.

"Today's the day, if you recall," Harry said, staring at the bottle of butterbeer he hadn't started drinking yet.

Harry had picked the drink, hoping the warmth would uplift his spirit but he could feel the weight of his decisions settling on his shoulder, weighing on his mind so naught but it could be present in his thoughts.

"It's bad then?" Horace asked, his voice soft and laced with comfort and understanding. If he'd been close enough he had no doubt the dopey eyed man would lay a hand on his shoulder.

"An improved Horcrux, a binding of my soul to a physical object of my choice," Harry said, the words tumbling from his lips with frightening ease.

The glass Horace had been holding fell out of his slackened grip, dropping, smashing onto the floor. The loud noise from the crash broke him out of his temporary stupor. Horace blinked, three times, in rapid succession. "H-horcrux?" he whispered, the words barely audible.

"Not a horcrux. No murder, no splitting of a soul. Just a binding of it," Harry said, doing his best to be calm, clear, crisp and concise.

Horace stared at him for a full three seconds, repaired the glass and then stood up. On shaky legs, he made it over to the hutch and barely managed to pour himself another. He gulped it down readily, as if it was the first glass of water he'd seen after being stranded in a desert.

"Sorry," he said, turning around to look at Harry, his knuckles white on the hand gripping the glass.

Harry saw he was about to trod through the spilt brandy that had been pungently filling his nostrils and he quickly vanished the spilt liquid.

Horace stepped back to his seat, heedless of Harry's action, the haunted look on his face still. "Just memories, Harry, just brought up…" Horace said, his eyes looking off towards the corner.

"Riddle and Horcruxes, yeah… I know."

There was no need for more. It was a decision that had crippled and guilted him for decades now.

"You said he knew about horcruxes before he asked you?" Harry asked, hoping to bring Horace out of whatever was plaguing his mind.

"What? Oh… yes," he said, some sharpness returning to his eyes after he blinked his eyes.

"Would he have learned the word from Salazar?"

"It's possible," he said, stroking his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "It's possible… I'd thought it might have been referenced to in the restricted section… or, perhaps, a pureblood in Slytherin introduced it to Tom."

Harry nodded, those were both plausible. "What I don't understand is how the final test led to him doing more than 49 rituals." Tom Riddle had been smart. Under Salazar's tutelage, he shouldn't have continued doing rituals.

"Tom was always so sure of himself," Slughorn commented, a frown on his face. "He asked me about seven horcruxes.."

"But from 49 rituals, you need to do 98 more. 3 sets of 7 sets of 7," Harry said, shaking his head vigorously. "Madness."

"Is there more information in the library now?"

"No," Harry said and then let out a sigh. "After the ritual, it should unlock. Fleur and Daphne are trying to see if there is anything that mentions soul rituals there."

"I'm afraid I don't know much, my boy," Slughorn said, forlornly looking down at his empty glass.

"Apolline said they were abominable. That no good has come from messing around with one's soul," he said before taking a sip of his butterbeer, the liquid not providing him with the warmth he'd hoped it would. "But what choice do I have?"

"There's only one choice, Harry," Horace said, his voice strong as he looked at him. "Survive, Harry, survive like Lily tried to. Make a choice you can live with, mitigate the downsides, and ensure your survival."

Harry frowned. "But can I live with mutilating my soul?" He didn't know exactly what the consequences of the ritual to bind his soul would be but from everything he learnt, he understood, meant the price would be exorbitant. Binding one's soul is wholly unnatural. It'd be against the very nature of magic.

"There aren't two options, Harry," Horace said, shaking his head. "Salazar Slytherin would not have his masterwork set be capped off by an abomination. There aren't two choices here, Harry. There is death or survival; just one viable option.

Harry swallowed hard. "I know," he said, his voice croaking. "But I can't become Riddle. I can't…"

Harry shut his eyes. He couldn't, wouldn't succumb to that. It'd be a betrayal of who he was, what his parents had sacrificed themselves for.

He let out a deep breath and worked to calm himself. It wasn't until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder that he realized Horace had stood up.

"Go, Harry," he said, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "I'm a broken-down drunk old man. Go, trust your heart and those girls you've got. With them, you won't be pointed wrong."

Harry stood and wrapped the man up in a hug that Hermione would have been proud of. "You're not a broken-down old drunk. You're a mentor and a man I admire," Harry said, still holding onto the man with a strong grip. "You've made all the difference and still are playing a crucial role for me."

Beyond the mentoring, the potions lessons, and just being an invaluable confidant, the man was still doing so much for him. Already they were planning out how to work with and confront Dumbledore. The man was too smart to have not known about Riddle's Horcruxes, not after second year.

He was coordinating the engagement party, heading up the political bloc with Cyrus and working on who knew what else. Any mistakes or issues the man had, Harry would overlook.

"Just be like Lily, my boy. Be good, be smart, be pure," Horace said, a sob escaping him. "Don't become Riddle. Don't become a monster like him. Remember your vow to me."

Harry broke the hug but kept his hands on Horace's shoulders. "I thought you said there was only one choice."

Horace patted his arm. "There is, but if it is too wrong, too horrible to consider, then I trust you to follow your heart.

Harry's eyes narrowed, "You think there's a third option?"

"No, but if you can't live with yourself by doing it, then I trust you. You'll do everything you can to find a different option, a way to cap the rituals, or just a way to survive," Horace said, his voice earnest and full of emotion. "Survive all this. Get through the rituals, defeat Riddle, and live a long happy life, my boy. That's what I want for you. That's all I ever wanted for you. Just do that and you'll make this old man proud."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, "I will. I promise."

"Well, final thoughts?" Harry asked, sitting in one of the four armchairs around a small, circular table. Natalia, Daphne and Fleur were all with him. The hours left in the day was far shorter than what had already been spent. Cuddles rested on his lap as he stroked along her scales.

"You shouldn't do it," Fleur said, her blue eyes ablaze. "'Orcrux or not, binding your soul to an object is 'orrible."

Harry dipped his chin, not surprised at all by her plea. Neither of them had any luck on learning anything of substance in their time scouring any books they had access to. It had been beyond a long shot, more of an excuse to let Harry go off on his own.

Fleur was sitting to his right and he panned over to Daphne, who was right across from him, to Fleur's left.

"Salazar's ritual instructions have been spot on," she said, her eyes locked on Harry. "You should try the spell and consider Flitwick's advice. I've studied rituals my entire life and I couldn't even begin to try and formulate three sets of three, let alone seven sets of seven."

"So you think I should go through with it?" Harry said, doing his best to keep his actual opinion from being known.

Daphne bit her lip. "I… don't know. Not balancing your magic means death. Binding your soul must have a downside but… we don't know what it is," she said, a strained smile on her face. "Could the consequence be worse than death?"

This was the problem he was facing - two brutal choices.

Fleur huffed a breath out, shaking her head as she looked down at the floor.

"I just want you to survive," Natalia said, her legs pulled up against her chest, her chin resting on her knees. "I want to live with you, have kids, and grow old together. If you have to bind your soul to something, then so be it.

"Live, Harry. Live for me," she said before looking at the other two girls. "Live for us ."

Wasn't that just it. Only one choice that led to living. But everything he knew about soul rituals was that they should never be done.

It was an unsolvable puzzle.

Salazar said not to pursue power for the sake of power. That the intent of doing such was to be discouraged. That without a proper goal in mind, the mindless pursuit of strength would lead to destruction.

Had he not commented over and over that there are lines you should not cross? That there should be a goal, a reason that is pure and not selfish in nature?

Yet, all of that was contradicted by the goal-orientated philosophy that living and protecting your loved ones was something that should be done at any cost.

Harry let out a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. There was a lesson here, he just had to figure it out which one it was.

"I'm going to try doing it," Harry said as he abruptly stood up. Cuddles let out a puff of smoke and glared at him as she was forced to flap her wings or unceremoniously fall to the ground.

He mentally commanded her to fly to Fleur, so the one who was most against it would be somewhat distracted. Harry turned and made his way out of the room, heading to the ritual chamber. Anyone trying to talk after him, he wasn't going to listen.

As he exited the room, he heard voices and the commotion of the girls all getting up to follow after him. He made it to the ritual room and stood in the middle of the circle. He had already set up the ritual and object. It wasn't anything too special. Just a locket he'd had Natalia pick up for him. Plain silver with no pictures or anything else inside of it. Clean and inert of magic.

"'Arry, you don't need to do this, please, for me, don't," Fleur begged as she entered.

Daphne and Natalia filed in after Fleur, both moving off to Fleur's left.

Harry shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. "I can't, Fleur. I do this or I'm screwed."

"There 'as to be another way! It can't be soul magic or death!" Fleur crossed her arms, her eyes burning with righteous fury.

In retrospect, stepping out of the room without discussing his decision wasn't the greatest. "I can't not do this! Don't you see that?"

"Ever since I started by foolishly doing the first ritual without understanding the consequences, I've been screwed." Harry clenched his fists. "Ritual after ritual, I've been on a train that's been picking up speed. Maybe if I'd stopped at the first one, I'd have had a chance."

"Once Harry started, there wasn't an option," Daphne said, her voice soft but strong enough to carry through the room. "Properly follow the directions or screw up and permanently unbalance your magic."

"The same choice Harry's facing now," Natalia added on to Daphne's words. "Would you rather he has a short and painful end to his life, Fleur?"

Fleur turned on the spot and glared at Natalia.

"Enough," Harry said before anything could go past words. "I'm going to give it a try. We've talked about this. I've spent the whole bloody day talking about it."

Harry shook his head as he threw up his hands. "It's simple. I trust that Salazar wanted me to be willing to cross lines to protect all of you or I'm supposed to not do it and figure this out on my own. And seeing as there aren't any of these heirs running around with bound souls, doing the ritual makes more sense."

"Fine, 'arry. Do it." Fleur said and then sat down, her legs criss-crossing under her.

"Good luck," Daphne said before she too sat.

Natalia blew him a kiss and then joined the other two on the ground.

Harry took a deep breath in. This was it. He rolled his fingers along his holly and phoenix feather wand and mentally prepared himself.

The pain was going to be incredible. He went through many that had been well beyond unpleasant and he hadn't received a single warning. For Salazar to have warned him…

Fuck, this was going to hurt, he just knew it.

He shut his eyes and tried to calm his erratic breathing. Already his body was preparing itself. He could hear his heartbeat, he could smell the closed in stone room. He could feel no magic, aside from his own, the circle preventing any from joining.

One more steadying breath and he'd begin.

Harry exhaled, his body tensed and-

He inhaled, not having started channelling the spell.

His mouth was dry and his stomach was somehow in knots, rock hard, and filled with butterflies!

Okay, three deep breaths and he'd do it.

Un, he breathed in, exhaled out. He could do this .

Deux, air rushed into his lungs, he expelled it all out. He was going to do this .

Trois, one final inhale, one large exhale. Time to do it .

Harry focused on his intent. Protect my loved ones.

He summoned his will. He could do it for them .

He thought about the locket and his soul being bound to it. He'd make it happen .

Drawing on his magic, he pushed and his magic gave form.

At first though, nothing happened. It was as if there was a second of everything trying to work in cohesion, everything merging all together.

Then it hit.

Pain .

It had been like diving into ice-cold water. You dive in and the reaction is so extreme that your body doesn't have a chance to respond. But, the second it did, it was brutal.

His whole body was on fire.

He couldn't think. He couldn't smell. He couldn't… anything.

One second he was in agony and the next he was blinking, his head on a rock-hard surface.

He blinked but couldn't see. Harry shut his eyes and counted un, deux, trois. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling, a cacophony of voices.

Harry rolled over and got up onto his hands and knees. Whatever had just happened had felt like a lorry had run him over. He wasn't in pain but he knew his body had just been through a horrid ordeal.

He blinked again. It was almost like each blink was turning back on another system in his body. First he saw, then he heard, and now he could feel the cold stone floor below him.

Shakily, he stood up and looked to the three girls.

"I'm fine," Harry said, waving off their obvious concern. "That was just… yeah." There really weren't words for it.

"You're sure?"

Harry wasn't sure which one of them had said that but it didn't really matter. "Yeah, just wasn't what I was expecting." He tried to make himself sound more confident than he felt. Whatever had just happened had floored him, literally.

"What did it look like?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes. Everything was still coming back into focus for him.

He heard more than one of them say something but by the time he'd gotten his eyes to focus on them, it had been Daphne that had begun to answer.

"It looked as though you were starting to work yourself up to it. Then, when you started, your whole body glowed… magic was rolling off you and…" her eyes unfocused as she stopped mid-sentence.

" Merde," Fleur said, shivering as she did so. "It was intoxicating, enthralling ."

"I've never felt magic like that. It was like it was being ripped out of you and overpowering the room. There was a visible haze in the shape of your body, and you were in so much pain," Natalia said, her words finishing scarcely above a whisper.

Harry just nodded. An outline of him and magical power being ripped away from his body. That made sense. He thought back and tried to see if their words resonated with what he'd felt.

After a moment of trying to think, he realized he hadn't really known what was going on. The spell had just overpowered everything. No sensation had been able to register anything.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew he had to try doing it again.

He moved back into the middle of the circle and shut his eyes. "Okay, I'm going to try again. Maybe I'll last longer this time," he breathed out.

"Be careful, 'arry," Fleur said, concern lacing her voice.

Harry nodded and squeezed his eyelids shut.

Time to steady his breathing again. Un, deux, trois. Each number came with a breath in and out.

He knew what to expect this time and just went for it.

That flash of numbness came and went. The cold pain began to register. Each nerve was being sparked, the start of a great inferno taking root.

Harry braced himself, trying to get a feel for what was happening.

His teeth ground together as he tried to ignore the physical pain.

His mind worked to block out the indescribable agony that he was experiencing.

He reached out with his magic and tried to get a sense, even as he put forth all his effort into increasing the power of the ritual.

As if the earlier spark had caught, his body was on fire. Each nerve served as the kindling to the great fire that had engulfed every inch of his body.

His teeth pressed into each other and he tasted copper in his mouth.

Unbidden, his lips parted and a scream tore out of his throat. The lining of his throat coming out with it, or that was how it felt.

Still, Harry's eyes flashed and he refused to let the pain stop him.

He had to know. He needed to understand what was happening.

He focused on his magic, his desperation reaching an ultimate high.

Second after second, the pain built. It was as if someone had cast a torture curse that amplified with every millisecond it was kept on you.

His earlier senses were gone, he didn't even have any idea if he was yelling. All he could feel was magic.

Intense, all-encompassing magic.

The longer he held it, the worse it got.

Still, he pushed himself, he discarded the pain and tried to keep going.

He'd prove himself worthy .

He threw every ounce of his will, ever scrap of his magic and tried to force the ritual to end. With a final roar, he gave everything he had to finish.

His heart beat in his chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

What was going on?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

He was alive.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Was he hearing his heartbeat or was he feeling it?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Harry tried to move his hand to his chest but he could do little more than attempt to lift it and experience pain .

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

A groan came from his throat, though something was blocking it.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Was he breathing?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

His heart beat but did his lungs move?

He tried to open his mouth and breath but all he felt was liquid in his mouth.

Liquid?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

A cough tore out of him but the fluid fell back toward the back of his throat.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

He felt warmth on the back of his neck.

What was going on?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

More warmth. His arms, his shoulders, his back.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

He was being rolled over. His body, unresponsive.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Something was pounding on his back. A cough came from him, fluid was expelled out of his mouth.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Another cough and then a gasp of air.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Air in. Air out. Un.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Another series of coughs racked his body. Air was greedily gulped.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

His heart beat. He was alive. His lungs filled with air, deux.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Air in, air out, trois. This was good.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Harry sucked in another deep breath, no fluid going in and out, though the coppery-metallic taste was ever-present.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Blood pounded through his veins. Blood tasted in his mouth.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

What was going on?

He opened his eyes, the light blinding him.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

A ritual. That's what he was doing.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Fuck. Why did he hurt so much?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Breathing was good. His heartbeat was strong. His eyes opened, but could he see?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

There was something tickling his face, something light, soft, that was smooth, soft and all over him.

His hands came behind him, and he struggled to sit up. Warmth came to his back, his shoulders, his arms. He felt himself being tugged up.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

His heartbeat was so loud. The pounding of drums in his ears as they rung and rung and rung with noise.

Why were his ears ringing?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

He brought his fingers to his ears and tried to clean them out, tried to stop the ringing.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

There was more noise now and he could tell his hearing was normalizing, returning to him.

Another thump-thump, thump-thump but far quieter this time.

He opened his eyes again, the tickling, silky hair gone. It had taken him a moment to recognize the sensation but it was clear to him now. Someone had let their hair drape all over his face. He blinked rapidly and tried to get his eyes working.

Colour came back. Shapes could be made out and he saw where he was.

A stone room, cold, dark, and bare.

He swivelled his head, first to the left and then to the right. Silvery-blonde hair, a gorgeous face with a massive frown. Brown hair, thinned lips and pinched corners of her eyes.

"Fleur, Natalia," he said, his voice hoarse and foreign-sounding to his ears.

He heard his name, though anything else just blended together into unintelligible noise he couldn't' decipher.

Fuck .

The ritual. He'd blacked out again.

Harry's fingers came up to the top of his head, his face tucked into his knees. His fingers grabbed some of his messy hair and pulled.

The sensation brought focus. It wasn't pain that he felt, but the lack of it. It was as if his pain receptors noted that something was happening but they, too, weren't recovered enough to make heads or tails of anything beyond that.

Like the first time but worse.

Harry sat there and ignored the noises around him.

His body was functioning but it was like a shroud had descended upon him.

He could see but not decipher what was going on around him. He could hear noises but not understand them. His whole body was numb and slowly things were normalizing.

Harry's brain tried to come up with an adequate feeling for what he was experiencing. It was like his body was disjointed. Things were working on an individual level but nothing was being put together. Almost like he was a train set that had been carefully laid out but had never been connected. Every time Harry tried to do anything it was like he was the train on unconnected tracks. He'd move forward and be halted. What should have come so easily wasn't possible.

He was disconnected, disjointed, and in the process of being put together.

But slowly, he could feel himself righting. His magic returned to him, fixing him. His senses were gaining in cohesion. Though the process felt slow, the reality of how long it took remained indeterminate.

Only after he began to feel like himself did he respond to exterior stimuli.

"Are you 'earing us?" A voice came from his right. Fleur, his silver-blonde fiance.

Harry reached forward and, with seeing eyes to direct his movement, he caressed her cheek. "I am now," he responded.

"Are you okay?" He heard the words rapidly blurt out of her mouth and he smiled at her.

"Yeah, though it took me a minute to feel myself."

Harry felt a touch on his shoulders. He turned his head around and saw Daphne, positioned behind him and looking him over.

"You're sure?" she asked, frowning.

"I think so…?" Harry began to pat himself. His body felt as though it was all there, though he knew he must've bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Harry shut his eyes and concentrated, stretching out his magical senses. He felt what he was looking for and called his wand back, summoning it to his hand. And with a quick silent spell, his mouth was clear. Another flick and his tongue was back to normal.

"You were passed out for a good minute or two," Natalia said, her hands grabbing onto him as she hugged herself to his arm and knee.

"Sounds about right. I tried to give it my all but… I guess I passed out, again." Harry stated the obvious conclusion. "What did it look like this time?"

"Who cares what it looked like!" Fleur exclaimed. "You passed out, again! You screamed and screamed and screamed some more!" Her voice was almost hysterical and her hands were trying to crush his arm as she spoke.

"It was horrible," Natalia whispered, her head and shoulder resting on his arm as she stared at him, worry and concern filling her gaze.

"It looked like you were under the cruciatus, but longer and worse," Daphne said, chiming in from behind, her hands still on the top of his shoulders.

"Salazar said it'd be incredibly painful," he said, snorting and shaking his head that he hadn't really considered how bad it could be. He'd passed out twice now. It wasn't just gritting through the pain, it was staying conscious that was the trouble.

"It was just like the last time, Harry. Your body started to glow with a white outline. As you kept up the spell though…" Natalia trailed off, sniffling, and Harry could see tears running down her face, dropping onto the floor.

"The further it got from your body, the more pain you seemed to be in," Daphne said, commenting from behind him, her voice soft though no less worried than the others.

Harry shook his head as he tried to concentrate on what he had felt, magically.

He'd tried, he'd worked to just focus on it but as the ritual moved on he felt less and less.

The first time it was definitely the pain but the second time… it wasn't pain that dulled him… And, that didn't sit right with him.

His senses were muted. He couldn't get a sense of rightness or wrongness from the magic. It just was. The longer he'd channelled, the less he'd felt.

How did that make any sense?

Flitwick had talked to him about power. He'd talked about being able to sense whether this was wrong or not. But, after two attempts, he felt nothing about it.

It was neither right nor wrong. It just was .

Harry sat there, thinking, his mind plagued with a mystery he wasn't coming up with ideas on how to begin to figure it out, let alone resolve it.

All three girls were touching him. Daphne was rubbing his shoulders and was pressed up against his back. Fleur was running her hands up and down him and Natalia was hugged onto them. He could feel their magic, so it wasn't that his ability to feel magic was damaged.

"I'm going to try it one more time. Watch me carefully, I need to know everything . Daphne, you watch my back, Natalia, you watch my front and Fleur, use whatever you can to see if you can feel anything magically."

Harry stood and was glad to note that his body still felt strong and capable. As he flexed his magic he could tell that whatever this ritual was doing it wasn't expanding it. He didn't feel like he'd just spent an hour casting heavy magic.

Harry turned around and gave Daphne a hug. After hugging her he repeated it with Fleur and Natalia. He wasn't sure if he needed to just feel them against him, to remind himself what he was doing this for; or, whether he needed to reassure them that he was okay.

After a few moments, the girls were in position and Harry was in the middle, ready to start again.

He counted in his mind, un, deux, trois, and started again.

The first plunge, his body numbed and then began to feel the pain begin. Each second it crept ever upward.

Harry grit his teeth and tried to focus on his magical senses.

This time, he'd kept his eyes open and he looked forward.

Magic, his magic, was all around him. It was so thick and heavy that he could see it. A haze, white and pure, surrounding his body. Each second he channelled it, it ever so slowly moved toward the locket.

Though he could tell just how much magic was in the air, he had no sense of right or wrong at all. As he tried to feel around, he got the sense that there was a total disconnect here.

If he hadn't experienced this twice already, Harry knew his thoughts would be a lot less lucid. Though his jaw was clenched, and his body was enduring absolute agony, he was far better at compartmentalizing it.

But, still, there was nothing. It was almost as if he was spinning the helm of a ship left and right but there wasn't a rudder to turn. No matter how much he tried to go, or do anything, really, there was no corresponding action.

He tried to feel for wrongness. But, he felt nothing .

He tried to feel for rightness. But, he felt nothing .

As the magical outline of his body got further and further, he felt less and less.

Even though pain was wreaking havoc on his body, his mind, his magic, his very soul, Harry knew something was wrong.

Harry cut it off, he stopped channelling the spell, calling his magic back to his body. This time, without having passed out, he saw the white outline rush back into him. He felt his magic come alive, his senses return.

He listened to the thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart.

He breathed in; he breathed out.

He saw, he heard, he tasted, he felt.

His senses returned to him and he sat down.

This wasn't right.

He waited until he felt himself again and then he told them.

"This was wrong. I should feel horrible, abominable," Harry said, not bothering to look around at the other occupants in the room as he stared at the wall. "I felt nothing . There was no wrongness, there was no rightness. The further the outline got, the less I felt, sensed, knew."

Harry frowned and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what's going on but this isn't wrong . It should feel gross, icky and be blatantly wrong . But this… this, I just can't do this."

The realization dropped on him, like a bag of bricks had just smashed into his stomach. He felt sick, there was something entirely off about this. Not doing the ritual hadn't ever been an option. But if his choices were to have unbalanced magic and die or to feel nothing, he'd not go through with it.

"You're not going to do it?" Daphne asked, her voice coming from behind him. "I didn't see anything, just your outline moving towards the locket."

Harry turned to her and gave her another hug, pecking her on the lips as he broke apart.

That felt good, it felt good to feel . The warmth of her body, the softness of her lips.

Harry moved toward Fleur and she held her arms out to embrace him. She was warm, like Daphne, and she smelled great, intoxicating. When he broke apart, she pressed her lips into his and pushed her tongue into his mouth.

Harry broke apart from her, a silly grin on his face. "What did you sense?" he asked, not letting their physical relationship distract him from what was going on.

"Magic, power, overwhelming amounts," Fleur said, her hand coming to rest just in front of her lips. "But nothing else. Just magic, as you said."

Harry shut his eyes and let out a sigh. He was worried that she wouldn't notice anything either. Troubling, puzzling and worrying. But, it confirmed what he'd felt, well, hadn't felt. Harry gave her a nod as he said thanks.

He moved toward Natalia and wrapped her up in a hug. She pressed her head into his neck and refused to let go when Harry tried to break the hug.

"I saw what Daphne did," she said, still holding onto Harry. "But, I also saw something I hadn't seen before."

The words startled Harry. He broke their hug and but kept a hold of her shoulders, his eyes stared into hers intently. "Wh-what else did you see?"

Natalia reached up, her fingers in a fist except for her forefinger. She pushed it forward and poked Harry in the forehead, drawing a small circle around his scar. "Right there, that's where I saw it. A black circle, attached to your white outline." She shuddered and shut her eyes tight. "It looks horrible, ugly, black and oily. I didn't even like to look at it, a blight on your outline."

Harry saw no lie in her eyes, just sincerity and something that had startled her. Harry pulled her into him and hugged her again. "It's okay, it'll be okay," he said, trying to comfort her, possibly even trying to convince himself it would be.

Harry broke his hug and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Turning her so that they were shoulder to shoulder, with Harry's arm around her, he faced the other two.

"I'm not sure what this ritual was supposed to do but it's not right. I'd bind my soul to protect you all but that's not what this is. This is muting me, disconnecting my senses, and dampening my magic."

Daphne, who now had her arms crossed, spoke up. "You sure, Harry? If you turn this down…"

Harry nodded his head, vigorously. "I could bear the pain, I could pay a terrible cost to protect you all, but this… this, this isn't it." Harry had no idea how he'd come to that but it was something he just knew . Whatever this ritual was supposed to do, it wasn't what he was being told.

A horcrux was wrong . An improved horcrux might be less wrong but it should still be wrong .

"I can't do it, won't do it," Harry said. He knew this was the correct decision. He was adamant about it and nothing was going to make him do that. Not now. Not after experiencing it.

There was something off about this ritual and he'd figure out what it was. Even if it damned him to have unbalanced magic and a short lifespan.

The four of them were all in Harry's bed. All of them still clothed. Harry had tried to make his way back to the study but the ritual had really taken it out of him. He'd needed to rest and had gone right to the bedroom, leaning on Natalia and Fleur while Daphne had gotten things set up.

He'd laid out on bed and hadn't moved, other than to shuffle over to make room for the girls.

There hadn't been much talking. He'd explained his reasoning again. Then, they'd just been together.

"We'll figure this out, 'arry," Fleur said from beside him. " All of us will work together. We won't lose you."

Harry's eyes were shut and so, he just rubbed her leg affectionately.

"You'll make it through this, I know you will," Natalia added.

Harry appreciated her words too and repeated his previous gesture on her.

Harry assumed Daphne was about to say something but he felt something. Something that wasn't from him. Something… exciting .

Harry pushed himself up and opened his eyes. His head turned to the door and he wandlessly opened it.

A shriek came through the door, followed by the appearance of his little familiar.

Had she been hunting? She'd been with them before the ritual room but hadn't come in with them and she had something in her talons… a rat?

No, Cuddles knew better than to bring a dead rat into the bedroom.

It was a book, Harry could see. A glowing book.

She shrieked again and Harry felt as his anticipation mixed with Cuddles' excitement.

As the book dropped into his hands, he looked at it. This wasn't just any glowing book. This was Salazar Slytherin's Memoir.

And it was glowing.