The scenery outside the train window was bright; the afternoon sun beating down from a cloudless sky. The sixteen year old boy with his forehead pressed against the window did not notice the beauty of the scene, and even if he had, he was in no mood to appreciate it. His mind was whirling with memories of the past few days.
Only hours before, the boy had attended the funeral of his mentor, Albus Dumbledore. This wise old man had been the last remaining parent-figure in the boy’s life; his death had rendered the boy completely alone.
“Harry?”
The soft voice pulled the boy out of his thoughts and the train compartment around him came back into focus. Seated on the bench across from him was a bushy-haired brunette girl. Her brown eyes, normally bright and shining, were red and puffy. She had obviously been crying. Sitting next to her, with his arm draped across the back of the bench and thereby subtly around the girl’s shoulders, was a tall, lanky boy with a shock of red hair. His typically jovial face was somber. His blue eyes, instead of sparkling with their usual mischief, were blank.
“Yeah, Hermione?” Harry addressed the girl, willing his voice not to falter.
“We can’t be too far from London. Don’t you think we should plan our next steps?” Hermione said this as lightly as she could. Harry was certain she didn’t want to appear frightened. He needed to be honest with his two best friends, however.
“Hermione, Ron, I want you to know something. What I’m headed into is dangerous. By the end of this journey, someone will die. It might be me. I hope it isn’t, but it could be. If you choose to come with me, it could be either of you. I want you to know right now that you two are my best friends, and you’ll be my best friends no matter what you do. If you’re too scared for this, it’s all right. I could never ask you to put your lives in danger.
Ron forced a grin. “That’s why you don’t have to ask us, mate.” He glanced at Hermione, an unspoken question in his eyes. She nodded her consent, and he continued, “There’s no way we’d let you do this alone.”
A weight that Harry hadn’t even been aware he had been carrying lifted from his chest. He smiled at his companions, the first genuine smile he’d had in days.
After a moment, Hermione cleared her throat and repeated her question, “Where do we go from here?”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “Let’s start with what we know. Voldemort has split his soul and has hidden pieces of it in meaningful objects “ the Horcruxes. He believes seven is the most magically powerful number, so he created six Horcruxes, with the seventh piece still inside of him.”
“If you could call it a soul,” Hermione interjected. She was right “ with his red eyes and thin, pale skin stretched over a skeletal face, Voldemort barely even looked human.
Harry nodded and continued, “We know for certain two of the Horcruxes have been destroyed. The diary in the Chamber of Secrets, and the ring last summer. The locket, which we thought we had, is a fake. The real one is still out there somewhere. Through the memories in Dumbledore’s pensieve, we are pretty sure a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff is a Horcrux as well. Dumbledore believed that Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, is one, and if he believed it, that’s good enough for me.”
“Are you sure, Harry?” Ron asked. “Dumbledore was the wisest man I’ve ever met too, but we all know now that even he can be wrong.”
Harry’s eyes clouded over as the memories from the tower came rushing over him. Dumbledore, weakened and crumpled against the wall, looking pleadingly into the eyes of the man he alone believed in, was begging for his life. Harry recalled the cruel, calculating look on Severus Snape’s face “ the hatred and fury that burned in his coal black eyes, the green light of the killing curse that shot from his wand.
Harry shoved these thoughts from his mind and continued firmly, “The last Horcrux is a relic of either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Hogwarts was the only home Tom Riddle ever knew. All of his objects are meaningful in some way to him. Another founder’s relic certainly fits that.”
“Do you have any idea where the Horcruxes are hidden?” Hermione asked worriedly.
“No,” Harry replied, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. “I’ll definitely need some help there.”
For approximately the one-millionth time in his life, Harry was thankful for Hermione’s intelligence. She began to logically tick off ideas. “Well, I think the first thing we should do is go back to search the house at Grimmauld Place. The Order of the Phoenix had their headquarters there. There has to be some written documentation somewhere.”
“That’s true,” Ron broke in. “Lots of times I’ve gone into a room only to have Dad or Bill or someone shove papers out of sight.”
Hermione nodded. “The next thing we should do is talk to everyone. They have to tell us now. War is imminent, and we’re of age “ or almost.” She smiled sheepishly at Harry, whose seventeenth birthday was still a month away.
Harry frowned, as though suddenly remembering. “I need to spend some time at my aunt and uncle’s.” He wasn’t sure how long he needed to stay there to fulfill his promise to Dumbledore, but he hoped it wasn’t long. “Why don’t we do this? Hermione, you should go and spend some time with your family. Ron, you go to your parents. The three of us can communicate by owl if necessary. In a month we can meet at Ron’s house for his brother’s wedding. Then we can begin our search.”
Hermione studied Harry fretfully. “I don’t know, Harry. Will you be all right alone with them?”
Harry shrugged. “I have to. The protection their house provides only works if I go there at least once a year.”
As he finished, he felt the train start to slow beneath them. They were approaching the station. “It will only be a few weeks,” Harry said, with forced optimism. “We’ll meet at the Burrow in a fortnight.” He could only hope the time would go quickly.