The old building was something like an emaciated child, a mere skeleton of the building it had once been. Its whitewashed walls stained with muddy brown and in some places dirty red specks that looked suspiciously like blood. It was a broken cake, with its red and brown icing spilling out and mixing with the white. Even though it was nearing the end of July, disastrous weather hovered overhead, broken sunlight mixing with dead clouds and a mixture of blue specks. Rain drizzled in skinny showers, dripping over the smashed-cake building and into the water deprived ground.
“It isn’t the most cheerful place in the world.” Ron Weasley was staring at the building with a mixture of apprehension and wannabe bravery on his face. “I, for one, wouldn’t want to live here.”
“Well it’s not like they came here by choice, Ronald! Orphans don’t really have much say in the matter. Honestly, you’d think you could be a bit more considerate.” Hermione Granger flounced past Ron, her hair getting even frizzier with the rain as she walked up the stone steps. Ron followed her grumbling along.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches….
Harry Potter followed his two best friends up the steps to the orphanage where Tom Riddle had once resided. He left the courtyard to walk up the steps; the gates surrounding the orphanage looked like some sort of filter or strainer. He wondered idly why the gates hadn’t been able to filter Voldemort out before he came here.
“Hurry up Harry!” Hermione called from the steps. He jogged to catch up. Was there really any point in him doing this? What else was there for him to find?
Ron knocked on the door and it was opened by a middle aged woman who looked grumpy, holding a sweaty baby to her chest.
“Can I help you?” she grumbled.
“We’re Social Services. We’ve been requested by an anonymous person to inspect your facility.” Harry recited the response they’d practiced before flashing a fake I.D. card in front of her face. “Please admit us.”
The grumpy lady was suddenly nervous.
“Oh, of course, come in. I’m Sally Bunker. I’ll show you around, please come in. Rebecca!” she yelled towards the stairs. A young serving girl approached and Sally Bunker handed the crying baby to her, whispering frantically in her ear and shoving the three fearsome glances before Rebecca walked off.
“Please, follow me.” Harry glanced at an apprehensive Ron and Hermione and they followed the woman. Harry began to regret their decision to come here even more. Admittedly, this was the place where Voldemort had been born, but could they really expect the last Horcrux to be found in an old building bursting of dirty diapers, snotty noses and screaming children?
Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies…
“And this is where the children eat.” Sally Bunker had led them to a room that looked as if it was inhabited by a particularly mischievous ghost. It was in complete disarray. The paint chipped and crumbs of food littered around the place, with tired maids gossiping in the corners. They walked past a wall full of dusty paintings and broken mirrors. Staring hard at an old rusted mirror, Harry could just make out the scar on his forehead.
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal
Harry had never understood Dumbledore’s reasoning, how could he be expected to be equal to the most evil man ever known? How could anyone ever consider that Harry could fight him?
“Harry c’mon, we’re heading upstairs now,” Hermione whispered, tugging at his sleeve and giving him a worried look. “Are you okay Harry? You look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, giving her a reassuring look.
“You’re doing a great job, Harry. You’re doing exactly the right thing, Dumbledore would be proud.”
“You and Ron are doing just as much as me. Maybe The Prophesy got it wrong and there are actually three people to defeat Voldemort,” Harry said, laughing slightly. But Hermione looked as if she was taking this quite seriously.
“We’re helping you as much as we can, Harry. And we’ll continue to help as much as we can. But you know you’re gonna have to do the final hit. We won’t always be there to help you.”
“You don’t know that, maybe we will all end up fighting Voldemort together. Who knows, maybe you guys will be with me the whole time.” Harry said, almost desperately.
“Maybe, Harry.” But she looked like she was just humoring him, giving him a sympathetic look as she said it.
“Are you guys coming or not?” Ron yelled from up ahead. They both sighed and continued to follow the once-grumpy lady away.
Harry glancing at Hermione, saw she wasn’t the happy, school-obsessed person she had once been. She was pale, had lost weight and her eyes now seemed to have a permanently sorrowful look pasted into them.
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.
Power? Who was he kidding? What kind of special power could he possibly have?
“‘You can speak Parseltounge Harry,’ said Dumbledore calmly, ‘because Lord Voldemort- who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin “can speak Parseltounge.”
Harry zoned out as the woman showed them the rest of the downstairs and took them upstairs to the dormitories.
“Now this is the”“
“Thank you Madam, you’ve been most helpful, but we really must be left alone to inspect now.” Harry said in a commanding tone.
“Of course, I’ll call the children.” She gave him one last nervous look before yelling at all the children to leave, and ushering them downstairs, the orphans giving Harry funny looks as they passed to go down the stairs.
After they were all gone, the three looked at each other. This wasn’t going to be easy. How could they even know a Horcrux would be here?
“Well you split you soul, you see,” said Slughorn, “and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such form . . .”
“Harry, from Dumbledore’s memory, do you remember which room was Tom’s?” Hermione asked Harry.
“Um, I think it was around this corner,” said Harry leading them towards a room. The three entered, staring around in wonder.
This was where Voldemort had grown up. Before he was evil, this was where he had lived. It seemed as if the room was almost sacred. It was still the same shabby room that Harry had seen with Dumbledore. It seemed to have been recently poorly painted a yellow color.
“This is it?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” answered Harry. The mood changed. An almost respect for the place that had once hosted the most evil man ever known. Was he the most evil child as well? Did he have plans to become a murderer even as a baby? When people asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, did he say he wanted to control the world? For that was exactly what he had done. The wizarding world had grown from bad to worse. The muggles were even noticing the strange things that had started to happen, but the Ministry didn’t care. They no longer cared all that much if the entire wizarding race was uncovered, it seemed trivial now to the fact that they could at any time wake up dead, or wake up with their children dead. Hope was some sort of foreign entertainment. No one seemed to care about anything anymore. Voldemort had reached his peak, but being Voldemort , there was no doubt that he would continue to go higher.
“Should we look around?” asked Ron tentatively.
“Yes,” answered Hermione automatically.
“Is it even worth it?” Harry suddenly asked. “Is it really worth it? We have no idea what this last Horcrux is! It could be anything! For all we know we could be looking on the wrong continent!” He collapsed to the ground. “Maybe we should just give up already,” he muttered, half to himself. But at that last comment Hermione kneeled down next to him.
“You,” she slapped him hard across the face, “need to snap out of this!” She stood back up.
Harry shocked, looked up at her, rubbing his face. But Hermione ignored him and engaged in conversation with Ron.
“So do you think it could be here? Any ideas at all?” Ron looked hesitantly at Harry.
“Er, I don’t know maybe we should just explore the upstairs, or look around the room or something’. I dunno.” Hermione sighed.
“Let’s start with the room. The two started looking and Harry gingerly got off the ground.
“Maybe we should check if there are any spells in here.” Harry said. Hermione looked up at him, surprised at his change of attitude.
“Good idea.” She whipped out her wand. “Semptenight.” The room glowed a bright yellow and then softly faded back to its regular color. “Guess not. If there ever were spells, they haven’t lasted this long.”
Ron kicked the wall in frustration. “We must be missing something! There has to be some clue we overlooked! Or, I dunno, some person that we haven’t talked to, or, I dunno, something!” clearly frustrated he stormed out into the hall and Harry vaguely heard him say “Semptenight”, before the door to the room slammed shut.
“He’s right you know, we must be doing something wrong,” Harry said to Hermione bluntly.
“Well obviously! If you have any brain waves then tell me!” She half-yelled in an angry voice, her hair becoming even frizzier.
“By an act of evil “ the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage;”
“Who do you think he killed?” Harry asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he would have had to kill someone to create a Horcrux? Who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know Harry, I just don’t know.”
Harry had the strangest feeling that he was missing something. He felt as if he knew something very important, like something was so obvious. But he couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Unless I’m very much mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure…’”
Dumbledore had said Nagini was the seventh Horcrux. But Nagini was dead, killed by Voldemort himself. No one knew why, she must have messed up or something. But she hadn’t been the seventh Horcrux. Harry, Ron and Hermione had found the remaining Horcuxes and destroyed them. But would all of that turn out for nothing? Would it all be a fruitless attempt if they were unable to find this one, would Voldemort win after all?
“And so you met Tom Riddle,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully. “I imagine he was most interested in you….”
Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth.
“Professor Dumbledore…Riddles said I’m like him. Strange Likeness, he said….”
“Did he, now?” said Dumbledore looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. “And what do you think, Harry?”
“Well, that was pointless. I’ve checked all the rooms, there’s no magic left. This place is one-hundred percent muggle.” Ron entered the room again, a look of disgust on his face. “This whole place is a dump though. If I was Social Services I’d shut the blasted place down.” Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, defeated looks on their faces.
“Where now?” Harry asked dully.
“I don’t know. Where else could it be? Harry, think. There must be someplace we haven’t checked yet. Are you sure Dumbledore didn’t mention anywhere else?”
“Listen to me Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His very own gift, Parseltounge-resourcefulness-determination-a certain disregard for rules,”
“I told you, I can’t remember. I’ve told you everything I know.”
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal
Hermione sank onto the bed that once belonged to Tom Riddle. She placed her hands over her face and looking at them between her fingers muttered something they were unable to understand. Ron joined her, throwing an arm around her shoulders as she began to cry.
The feeling came back again, the forgetfulness-feeling. What was it? What was he missing? He somehow knew that this information he couldn’t remember was of extreme importance, that it would somehow show him everything he needed to know. That it would somehow give him the clue to defeating the Dark Lord.
“Voldemort put a bit of himself into me?” Harry said thunderstruck.
“It certainly seems so.”
He had checked everywhere in his memories, for any clue possible that would reveal itself as the seventh Horcrux. But he was missing something, something very obvious.
“Voldemort put a bit of himself into me”
Why was Harry the one to defeat the dark lord anyway? Maybe The Prophesy got it wrong?
“It certainly seems so.”
Harry looked over at Hermione; who was now hysterical, and Ron; who was trying his best to comfort her. They had helped him through so much. They had always been with him for everything involving defeating Voldemort. But Hermione was right, the last steps he would have to take alone.
“Voldemort put a bit of himself into me?”
Suddenly, everything clicked. Now that he thought of it, it was almost like he had known all along. He was the final Horcrux. Harry was the final Horcrux. It all added up. All the similarities, the shared talents, the way he was connected with Voldemort’s feelings, the way he understood him as no one else seemed able to do. He wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, but it was obvious that it had. What he had been searching for had been there all along. All he needed to defeat the Dark Lord was himself.
Harry looked up at his best friends. He loved them both so much. He looked out the window and saw all the people that were liable to be destroyed, or tortured, or turned evil if he didn’t so something. He thought of Ginny, and how he never got to tell her how much he loved her; he thought of Seamus and Neville and Fred and George and Remus, and how much he would miss them if they died. He thought of his parents, they had both died to save him; of Sirius who had come to his rescue and died in the attempt; of Dumbledore, who had died so Harry wouldn’t get himself killed. He thought of all the sacrifices that had been made for him, Harry. It was his turn to pay them all back, and make the final sacrifice.
“Ron, I need you to kill me.”
For neither can live while the other survives. . . .The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. . . .