NOTE: I have no words to explain the long hiatus. All I can say is I am so sorry. Life has been very demanding, and writing got pushed into a dark corner and left there. It is my conscious effort now to go back to writing. I have been ignoring something I love doing for far too long, so my hope is to get myself back into the rhythm of writing and updating often. For all of you who have waited so incredibly patiently, thank you so very, very much! For those who maybe gave up and left, I am so sorry. I can only apologise. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Fifty Eight

The very first gift Harry had ever received was a book. A picture book about magic. It had been placed in a wooden box, wrapped in the finest blue silk. The four year old Harry had been so taken by the gesture, he had not only cherished the book but had held onto the wooden box too. It used to sit by his bedside table, a permanent fixture until Harry learnt the shrinking charm. The first item he had shrunk after mastering the charm, was the wooden box. Lord Voldemort knew Harry carried the box in his inner robes pocket, taking it with him wherever he went. At first it was empty, before Harry got the idea to store a supply of emergency potions in it. Voldemort supposed it gave Harry a more logical reason to have the box with him. Voldemort knew, but had never directly addressed it. He had tried lecturing Harry about the foolishness of sentiment and how everything could be, and would be, held against you if you give your enemies the slightest hint of your vulnerability.

But Harry didn't listen.

Harry was stubborn.

Harry did as he pleased.

And what pleased him now, apparently, was hunting and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Harry had taken another one of his Horcruxes. Ravenclaw's Quill was gone. Voldemort knew Harry had taken Hufflepuff's cup from the Ministry too. That is why he had laid the trap, hoping his Death Eaters would catch Harry when he came for the Golden Quill. But they had failed him. Harry had escaped with the Quill. It had most likely been destroyed, like the Slytherin Pendant. Voldemort knew he was lying to himself if he considered Harry was holding the Horcruxes as some sort of ransom and not destroying them. It's what he had first told himself, when he learnt his son was stealing his Horcruxes. He had told himself Harry was only acting out. He was upset. Voldemort knew well enough how much Harry liked the idea of revenge.

But Harry wasn't holding his Horcruxes hostage. He was destroying them, destroying fragments of his father's soul. He could feel it, deep down in his being; three pieces of his soul were gone. Harry was destroying Voldemort, and as much as he tried to deny this terrible truth, Voldemort had no choice but to come to terms with it.

When the Slytherin locket had been destroyed, Voldemort had been furious, yes, but he had disregarded the unfortunate incident. Harry had just found out the truth about his childhood. He was angry. He was hurting. He didn't mean it. That's what Voldemort believed. Harry didn't mean to destroy the Horcrux. It had been a moment of anger, of unadulterated rage, and Harry's immense power had erupted around him and in that moment the Slytherin locket was inadvertently destroyed. Never did Voldemort consider it was intentional. He didn't think Harry, his son, the boy who called him father with such reverence, could do such a thing on purpose.

But now, Voldemort was forced to accept that Harry had done it all on purpose, and he was doing it again, and again.

From where he stood, Voldemort could spot the picture book sitting on Harry's shelf. The children's book sat on the top shelf of Harry's impressive bookshelf, ridiculously contrasting the rest of his collection, full of dark magic and forbidden curses. Voldemort's eyes stayed on the book, slotted in place by Harry. His ruby gaze flitted across the bookshelf, across the titles Harry had arranged in an order only he could understand. His gaze moved from the bookshelf to Harry's desk, where he had left quills and parchments scattered. The robes he had been wearing the last morning he had been here were still thrown over the back of his chair. His bed was as it had been the last time he had lay in it. Everything in his room was as he had left it. Nothing had been moved, or cleaned, or rearranged. Voldemort had seen to it that nothing was touched. It was so that once he got Harry back, he could easily modify his memories and it would be as if he had never left. Standing in the middle of his room now, Voldemort took in the lingering essence of his son, committing it all to memory.

"My lord?"

Voldemort didn't turn at Lucius's voice. A small dip of his head was all the reaction he gave.

"My lord, is there something you desire?" Lucius dutifully asked.

Voldemort didn't speak. What he desired, he could never have, not now. Slowly, his clasped hands behind his back unfurled, and Voldemort reached out to the robes across the back of Harry's chair. His fingers stopped inches away from the fabric. He glanced across the room once more, stealing a last glance at the picture book Harry had lovingly stored at the very top of his bookshelf, a sign of how much he cherished a silly children's book. His hand dropped away without touching Harry's clothes and Voldemort turned around to meet Lucius's eyes.

"Seal this room," he instructed. "No one comes in here. I don't want a single thing to be moved or touched."

Lucius nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort swept out of the room, walking past Lucius who stood at the threshold.

"We will get him back, my lord," Lucius bravely called after him. "It's only a matter of time. I will seal his room but you can reopen it when we get Harry back and modify his memories. We have done it before, my lord, we can manipulate his memories again."

Voldemort didn't speak for a moment. Then, in a whisper he replied. "We can manipulate his memories, but what about mine?" He turned and met Lucius's eyes. "I will not forget his defiance and nor can I forgive it."

He saw the panic build in Lucius.

"My lord - "

"Seal his room so that it can remain forever in memory of my son," Voldemort cut across him. "But no one will be coming back here, Lucius." He met the fearful grey eyes with cold red ones. "Not even Harry."

xxx

"Do you want the pasta or the meatloaf?" Damien asked, holding a box of said food in each hand.

"Not bothered," Harry replied, distractedly.

Damien examined both tubs. "I'll give you a bit of both," he decided. "Mum's meatloaf is amazing, and her pasta is to die for."

"Uh-huh," Harry mumbled in response. He rubbed at his acing scar, before going back to the sheets of parchment spread across his bed.

"Could you show some interest?" Damien asked.

"In what?" Harry asked, finally raising his head to look at him.

Damien held up the twin tubs. "Food, Harry. Food."

Harry rolled his eyes before shaking his head. "There are more important things than food, Damy."

"Says who?" Damien scoffed. "Uncle Siri told me we don't eat to live, we live to eat. Wise words if you ask me."

Harry didn't say anything. He ducked his head, forcing back the memories that came at him as soon as Sirius Black was mentioned. Horrendous abuse that wasn't Sirius's fault. Harry holding him down, torturing him with the Cruciatus curse. Again, not Sirius's fault.

A knock on the door brought Harry out of his dark thoughts. He welcomed the distraction, even if it was the three Gryffindors, who were visiting him a lot more than Harry would have liked.

"Okay, the muggle hand-trapping contraption only had sparkling water," Ron said, settling a few plastic bottles onto the coffee table.

"Vending machine, Ronald," Hermione corrected. "Honestly, it wouldn't hurt you to try using the correct names. And you don't have to add 'muggle' to everything."

"Call it what you want," Ron said. "It tried eating my hand when I reached into the flap to pull out the water."

"It did not," Ginny interjected, depositing the few packets of crisps and confectionery they had purchased.

"Ooh yum," Damien looked through the selection of goodies from the vending machine. "You got good stuff." He waved Harry over. "Come on, Harry, come and eat."

Harry couldn't say he wasn't hungry, he hadn't eaten a decent meal in two days, the last time Damien and the group of Horcrux helpers had come over. Damien never came without bringing something their mum had prepared. As much as Harry didn't openly show it, he cherished the food Damien brought. It was the closest Harry would come to eating dinner with his family. He wasn't naïve. There was no possible scenario where he would be able to sit with his mum, his dad, and his brother at the dinner table and share a meal. It was this or nothing.

Harry pulled himself away from the paperwork he had been studying, and sat between Damien and Hermione. Food might help his growing headache. Damien pushed the plate of food he had prepared for Harry, with a hearty helping of both meatloaf and pasta, towards him, before filling in a plate for himself. They all ate, sharing the food Damien and Ron brought, and the homemade sandwiches Hermione had prepared, along with the snacks from the vending machine. The group remained seated, even after the food was gone, and the pleasant chatter turned swiftly to the purpose of their visit.

"Now that we have Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff's Horcruxes out of the way, we are only left with Gryffindor's," Damien summarised.

"If we follow the pattern of the other Horcruxes, the Gryffindor Horcrux is going to be something closely related to Godric Gryffindor," Ron said. "From all the listed artefacts, nothing stands out more than Godric's sword."

The rest nodded their heads in agreement. Hermione glanced at Harry's silent form, and cleared her throat.

"He - V-Voldemort must know by now what you're up to," she said. "Those guards, the Korakilees, must have reported back to him about you taking Ravenclaw's Quill."

"They probably did," Harry said. "But he knew I was after his Horcruxes. The Quill was put on display as bait. He knew I would come, that's why Lucius was there with a team of Death Eaters."

Hermione shifted nervously, but pushed on. "If he knows you're hunting his Horcruxes, he will secure the remaining ones, and lay more traps for you."

"He will," Harry agreed.

"That doesn't worry you?" Damien asked.

Harry met Damien's eyes. "It doesn't matter," he replied. "Worrying about it will give me nothing. Voldemort can lay traps, or try safeguarding the remaining Horcruxes. I am still going to get to them."

Damien's expression showed how worried he was at his brother's words, but he remained quiet.

"There is one other thing Voldemort now knows, that he didn't before," Ron said. He gestured to everyone seated around the table. "He knows we're helping you." His serious blue eyes met Harry's green ones. "Malfoy senior would have told him, if his Korakilees didn't."

"Who told you lot to get involved?" Harry asked.

"That's not what I'm saying," Ron explained. "I mean, now that we are known to be working with you, we need to watch our backs." He looked intently at Harry. "Hogwarts is closed. We don't have lessons on Defence Against the Dark Arts." He shared a quick look with Hermione. "It might be an idea for us to learn a way to defend ourselves, in case Voldemort sends his men after us."

Harry looked around at the other three. Their expressions were grim, but determined. His gaze settled on Damien, before dropping to the chain, visible around his neck. Harry had ensured his brother's safety. He couldn't be attacked by Death Eaters. But that didn't mean he was immune to all of Voldemort's attacks. The Lahyoo Jisteen may be powerful, but it wouldn't protect Damien from the Unforgivable curses. Harry looked back at Ron.

"What do you propose?" he asked.

Ron looked initially surprised, like he didn't expect Harry to give in so quickly, or so easily.

"You're talented," he said. "You know a lot about duelling. We were thinking," he nodded at Hermione, "maybe you could teach us a few spells?"

"A few spells won't protect you from Death Eaters," Harry said.

"Maybe not," Hermione said, "but it might give us a fighting chance."

Harry looked at her, and again, his gaze darted to Damien. He was looking back at him with a hopeful glint in his eyes. Harry felt himself giving in already.

"I can't teach you everything there is to duelling," Harry said. "We don't have that much time-"

"Anything will be better than nothing," Hermione said quickly.

"We can dedicate half an hour every time we meet," Ron suggested.

Harry looked across the table at Ginny and Damien.

"It would be cool to learn from you," Damien smiled.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm game."

Harry turned to face Ron and nodded at last. "Okay, I'll teach you the basics. The rest is up to you to practise in your own time."

They all agreed, grinning from ear to ear, before breaking into nervous chuckles. Harry sighed. He was already regretting this.

xxx

Harry took in a breath. He had been thinking about this next meeting, considering what would be the best defence to teach the hapless four teens. The answer came to him almost at once. A swipe of Harry's hand had pushed the table out of the way to create some space in his small hotel room. The four gathered in a circle, looking excited and nervous at the same time. Harry turned to Ron.

"The best defence is to avoid getting hit," he said. "But that isn't always possible, so the next best thing is to learn how to bring up your shield."

Ron's eyes brightened at once. "I was hoping you would teach us how to bring up a shield like yours."

Harry looked annoyed. It won't be like mine, not yet. You have to practise a lot more before it will expand to cover you fully and not crack under an attack."

Ron nodded.

"Okay," Harry paused. He had never had to teach someone else magic. He had always been the student. "The first thing that you have to do is gather up as much energy as you can from your core." He caught the look of confusion on Ron. "What?" he snapped, losing his patience already.

"My core?" Ron asked, looking like he had never heard of the word. Harry grit his teeth "Yeah, your core, what holds your magical store."

"I know what a core is," Ron said quickly, his ears turning red. "But I don't know what you mean by gathering energy from it?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Let's start at the very beginning. You know where your core is, right?" He asked.

Ron looked at Hermione, but she gave him a pointed look, one that seemed to say 'go on.' Ron hesitantly lifted a hand and placed it over his heart.

"Here?" he asked.

Harry was going to hit something. It took all his control not to hit the boy before him. He shook his head. "Try again," he growled.

Ron looked around the room for help. Damien scratched at his forehead but Ron didn't pick up the clue. He shook his head. "I don't know," he replied honestly.

"How could you have gone through six years of Hogwarts and not learn where your core is?" Harry asked.

"He wasn't paying attention," Hermione said, looking at Ron with disappointment.

Harry turned to the muggle-born witch. "Go on, then," he prompted.

Hermione raised her hand and touched her forehead. "The core is located just behind the hypothalamus."

Harry gave her a curt nod. "Good."

The praise made Hermione smile and Ron scowl.

"You have to learn to gather the energy in your core," Harry continued. "That's what you should have learnt from the very beginning." He looked around the room. "Everyone has a different core, just like the wands we use. That's why certain wands work better with some wizards than others. You can't use my wand to its full impact, just like I can't use yours. Our wands link with our core and use the energy from there to perform magic." He took Ron's nod as an affirmation of understanding, and continued. "If a muggle was to lift a wand, it wouldn't do anything, since they have no magical core for the wand to connect to."

The undivided attention Harry was getting from the four teens was making him a little uncomfortable. He shifted a little but pushed on. "So, in order to conjure up your shield, you have to learn to manipulate your core. You have to let your magic become more like an instinct than anything else. The strength of the shield depends on how well you can manipulate your core. Remember, you can't block yourself from every curse, but if you can bring up a full body shield you can save yourself from some nasty curses." He gestured to the four teens. "If all of you stand together and cast your body shields at the same time, they should fuse together to make it impenetrable."

"That sounds cool." Damien grinned. "How do we gather our energy?" Damien asked, taking out his wand.

"Put that away," Harry said. "You won't use your wands just yet. I'll teach you without using your wands. If you learn the method, you can try it practically, once you're home."

Harry explained the best he could, trying to remember how he was taught this spell. His heart jolted as he remembered who it was that had taught him the full body shield. Lord Voldemort had spent many hours teaching him. Harry shrugged the memory away and continued to concentrate on the four in front of him. What was supposed to be half an hour stretched into an hour, by which time none of them felt that they had achieved what Harry had explained. Tired and a little disappointed in themselves, the four teens settled down in front of the table, to commence their research of Gryffindor's sword, the most likely next Horcrux.

xxx

Sirius rubbed his temples, trying to ease his aching headache. He hadn't slept very well. He and James had wasted another night searching for Harry, along with his muggle alias, Alex, but had found nothing. Dumbledore had kept an eye on Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were still under the memory charm and living as muggles, John and Fiona. James and Sirius had tried many times to gather information about Harry, about Alex, from Frank's fight club crowds. From what Sirius had learnt so far, no one had seen Alex in quite a while. Apparently the last fight Alex had taken part in had ended abruptly when Alex had collapsed mid-fight. There were rumours that he was ill and couldn't participate in fights anymore. Sirius hadn't been able to sleep ever since hearing that.

Dumbledore was in the middle of another Order meeting and everywhere Sirius looked, tired looking faces met his gaze. James was sitting next to him and was the only one who seemed to be hanging on Dumbledore's every word. Usually this would be the subject of much ridicule, as Sirius would tease James about paying such undivided attention to a Professor, but the situation was far away from being funny. The Ministry were convinced that the Golden Quill and the Hufflepuff Cup were both stolen by Harry. They weren't wrong. The Order too believed this was Harry's work, but the reason given by the Minister was far from the truth. According to Minister Cornelius Fudge, Harry had stolen two heavily guarded objects on the orders of Voldemort. He didn't believe that Harry had left Voldemort's side and was convinced that Voldemort had taken these priceless items for his own gains.

"I am afraid that as of now, Harry has another two charges placed against him, theft of two important, historically significant artefacts," Dumbledore told the room.

Sirius watched as James closed his eyes. He was trying to control his temper. The feeling of sympathy intensified as Sirius watched his childhood friend fight to control his emotions. It wasn't fair. James had been through enough. Not only was he dealing with the emotional trauma of losing his son again, he had to constantly fret over the fear that Harry was going to get caught and killed by either Voldemort or the Ministry.

"The Minister may not agree, but we know Ravenclaw's Quill and Hufflepuff's Cup were taken by Harry as they are Voldemort's Horcruxes." His blue-eyed gaze, no longer twinkling, scanned the room and Sirius felt a sense of foreboding spread over him. Dumbledore's eyes rested on James, who stared back at him with a spark of hope. "I believe I may have uncovered another Horcrux."

The room held its breath.

"If I am correct," Dumbledore continued, "and if Harry comes to the same conclusion, there is a chance we can use it to get to Harry."

It should have filled Sirius with relief, joy even, that they had a chance to find Harry.

But it didn't.

It panicked him instead. They were laying another trap for Harry, and this time, there was so much more at stake. The Ministry would not allow Dumbledore to keep Harry this time. Despite Dumbledore's promises, the Order wasn't entirely safe for Harry either. There were some members of the Order who regarded Harry as much an enemy now, as they did before. Sirius turned his head to look at Mad-Eye Moody. The auror had almost died at Harry's hand. Would he care that Harry was no longer with Voldemort? Sirius had to shake his head to clear it. His head thumped with the action. He had to keep faith. If Dumbledore's plan worked and they got Harry, this time, Sirius would ensure nothing happened to his Godson. He made a silent promise to himself, for James's sake, he would do whatever he had to, to protect Harry.

xxx

"What do you think Harry? Harry? Harry!"

Harry looked up, his bloodshot eyes on Hermione.

"What?" he asked.

Hermione stared at him. "Do you agree?" she asked.

"Agree to what?"

"The likely location of Gryffindor's Sword?" Hermione reiterated.

When Harry didn't answer, Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Were you even listening to us?"

"No," Harry said, and returned his attention to the notes before him. He wasn't reading it though, truth was he could barely see the pages, his vision was so badly blurred. The headache was so severe it was affecting his sight.

His scar was always hurting now, constantly aching, peaking at times where Harry felt like he was going to pass out. He did, at times, and woke up with blood running down his lips and chin. It was a daily thing now, and Harry had no choice but to grit his teeth and get through it. Potions helped to a point, and Harry had even resorted to taking the muggle painkillers Hermione had brought when he was recovering from the transfer and couldn't take potions. The mixture of muggle and magical medicines made the ache tolerable for a few hours, but nothing took the pain completely away.

A hand pushed the parchments in his hand down and Harry found Damien peering at him. "What's wrong, Harry?" he asked. "You're not even paying attention to what we're saying." He took in Harry's bloodshot eyes and pale complexion. "Are you sick?"

"Yes, sick of you not letting me study this," Harry replied, holding up the sheets of parchment in his hand.

"What is it, Harry?" Damien asked, ignoring his brother's protest. "Is it…is it your head?" His eyes darted to the angry red scar on Harry's forehead, hidden behind his bangs.

Harry sat up a little straighter. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Ron and Ginny shared a look. They silently agreed that Harry didn't look tired, he looked ill.

"Maybe…maybe you should lie down for a while? Get some sleep." Hermione said.

Harry ignored them and instead picked up his notes again, pretending to read through them.

The four teens shared concerned looks but didn't say anything further to Harry. After ten minutes or so, they took their leave, hoping in their absence Harry would rest and recover. As soon as they left Harry's hotel room, they gathered down the hallway to have a hurried conversation.

"He's really not okay?" Ginny said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know. He looks really drained," Hermione said.

"I think we should bring him something for his scar. It's obvious that it's playing up," Ron offered. "I think some pain relief and dreamless sleep potion should help."

"Harry has potions, I brought him some not too long ago," Damien said.

"So this is him, after taking potions?" Ginny asked, looking worried. "That's really not good."

"He needs something stronger," Hermione said, her brows knitted. "My mum and dad have some strong painkillers, for their patients when having dental surgery. I can try sneaking some from their practice."

"Is that safe?" Damien asked, his heart skipping a beat.

"Of course," Hermione said. "It might make him a little drowsy, but that's better than him being in pain."

They all agreed.

"I'll have to see if mum has any strong pain relief potions. I'll bring them for Harry." Damien planned.

"We maybe should also look into curse scars," Ron said. "It's all well and good that we are researching Horcruxes, but looking at how Harry's scar is starting to bother him, it may be an idea to learn what we can about curse scars," he paused, "and what they are capable of."

No one spoke up, but everyone silently agreed with Ron.