How To Find Horcruxes

A/N: This story may drag on at first, but never fear! I know where I’m going. Anyway, on with this chapter. It’s quite small, but I plan to post again very soon.


Man is the cruelest animal
-Friedrich Nietzsche


How To Find Horcruxes


Chapter 1


“Bloody hell!” yelled Ron in frustration, overturning the ancient, yellowed scrolls he, Hermione and Harry had been sifting through for the better part of 8 hours. All three were sitting on the cold, stone floor of the study in 12 Grimmauld Place, thick, heavy books and deteriorating parchments scattered about as if a tornado had come through. “This is hopeless. What do you expect to find in some ancient parchments anyway, Hermione?”

Because of the chaos which marked the end of the golden trio’s sixth year, Hogwarts was deemed “closed until further notice” by the Minister of Magic, , Rufus Scrimgeour. Given the circumstances, Ron, Hermione and Harry, as well as the rest of the Order, retired at 12 Grimmauld Place, regrouping for the oncoming “war-of-the- century”, as it was so dubbed, all the while helping Harry find the last remaining horcruxes. A fruitless attempt thus far, in Ron’s eyes.

“Where the hell else do you expect us to look, Ronald?” Hermione burst out at Ron, her chocolate brown eyes raging in fury. “Dumbledore’s gone! He’s dead! Our spies are finding nothing. Our time is running out. So, unless you think of a better plan, sit down and READ THE BLOODY SCROLLS!”

“Merlin, Hermione, what’s gotten into you?” Harry asked, stunned at her unHermione-like outburst.

“I’m sorry. I’m just….gods, everything is falling apart. The Order is stretched thin as it is. Dumbledore is gone, Snape, the best spy we had, is a traitor. Any chance we had of surveying Voldemort is gone, now that Snape knows who belongs to the Order. Not to mention we still have 4 horcruxes to find and we’ve got no clue where the hell they are!” Hermione stated breathlessly, her voice shaking.

In the following months after Hogwarts closed, the Order had tried fruitlessly to recruit new members. However, as many of the new recruits were former Hogwarts students, the parents of said recruits were less than willing to turn over their children in an effort to fight Voldemort. The only members who still remained were as follows: Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Aberforth Dumbledore, Arabella Figg (Squib), Rubeus Hagrid, Hestia Jones, Remus "Moony" Lupin, Olympe Maxime, Minerva McGonagall (Acting Commander-in-Chief), Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Sturgis Podmore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley. Nothing in comparison to the army that was the Dark Lord’s dark forces.
“Don’t worry, ‘Mione,” Harry responded, sympathetically, patting her on the back. “We’ll find something. I just know it. There’s got to be something we’re missing. Something we didn’t see. I know Dumbledore’s gone, Harry continued, his voice cracking, “but hope isn’t lost yet.”

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Draco Malfoy awoke groggily, sitting up to find the sunshine beaming brightly into his room.

Fucking brilliant, he thought, rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the light. Getting up from his make-shift bed on the floor where he had passed out the night before, he arose slowly, feeling sore down to the bone. Feeling though his robes, he took out his wand.

“Episkey,” he said quietly, pointing his wand on himself. Instantly, any soreness he felt subsided.

Looking around the room, he didn’t see much. A rickety bed covered with moth eaten linens, a dusty dresser and another wooden door on the opposite wall, leading into a small bathroom, barley big enough for one person. Padding to the dresser, he opened the top drawer and found some odd looking muggle clothes, obviously meant for him. I gave up the manor for this shit? he thought, holding up the tattered shirt. What the fuck is Spinal Tap?

Just as he finished dressing himself, the shanty door to his room was thrown open and his father stormed in.

“So I see you have finally arrived,” Lucius sneered, glaring spitefully. “Better late than never, I suppose. And good work killing Dumbledore,” he threw in sarcastically.

“He’s dead. What the hell difference does it make who did it?” Draco responded bitterly, trying to keep his anger in check. “I did everything Voldemort asked of me. I got the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I disarmed Dumbledore. Everything he asked of me, it was accomplished, so just shut the fuck up about it already!” He was getting more and more furious every second, people telling him what to do. More than anything, it was the one thing he could not tolerate.

In one quick motion, Lucius grabbed Draco by the collar of his shirt and slammed him roughly against the indurate, stone wall.

“You belong to Voldemort. You do everything he asks of you. Even if that is running around nude through the streets of Hogsmeade clucking like a chicken, you will do it. Is that understood?” Lucius spoke quietly, the pure loathing in his voice causing goosbumps to break out on Draco’s skin.

“Yes, sir,” Draco complied grudgingly, anger building up inside him like water in a tea kettle seconds before it reaches its boiling point. Lucius loosened his grip on Draco and slid him back down the wall.

“Very well. I’m off. We have business to discuss. As for you. Do not leave this wing of the building. Voldemort no longer trusts you as his servant, as you mucked up his scheme with Dumbledore. Therefore, for the time being, our meetings will be conducted without you. Good day, son,” Lucius stated curtly, his robes billowing out behind him in Snape-like fashion as he exited the room.

Draco watched him leave, his steel grey eyes piercing into the black robes that adorned his father. He went to the door, slammed it shut and kicked at it furiously, stubbing his uncovered toe in the process.

Bloody fucking hell. Who the hell does he think he is anyway? “You belong to Voldemort.” I belong to no one. Especially that insane, dried up, walking cadaver. I’m a Malfoy. And NO ONE tells me what to do. I am not Voldy’s fucking house elf, Draco though, pacing his room in sheer outrage, his wand emitting tiny red sparks. And, no, father, I will not stay in this wing of the house, he thought, as he conjured up some shoes and angrily threw open the door to his room.

Making a left, he walked towards the magnificent staircase he had begrudgingly climbed up the night before. Stealthy, he eased down the gigantic staircase, which lead to what looked like a huge entryway with covered windows on either side of an oak door. Looking to the left, he saw the corridor from which he had come from the night before. Going forward, Draco peeled back a curtain from one of the windows and peered out. Looking around, he discovered that the building was atop a mountain and he could see the ever changing waves of the sea down below. Bored with the sight, he quietly walked down the undiscovered corridor and came upon rows and rows of rickety, wooden doors. Choosing one at random, he opened it and found a study, rows and rows of aged and ancient books sitting atop musty shelves. Opening all the doors in the corridor, he found nothing worth his time- just empty rooms. However, at the end of the hallway, where a door should have been, was instead a huge, blood red tapestry, complete with a knight and shining armor. Lifting back the rough, red fabric, Draco came upon another door, this one locked with steel nuts and bolts. Itching to find out what was behind the door, Draco took out his wand.

“Alohomora,” he whispered, pointing his wand at the door. The door swung open, revealing a crepuscular, damp tunnel.

“Lumos.” Quickly, so as not to be seen, Draco stepped inside the tunnel, the heavy metal door swinging shut behind him with a metal “clunk”. By the light of his wand, Draco could make out spiders crawling on the wall, running hurriedly away from the light. So as not to trip on the uneven floor, he touched to sides of the tunnel for support only to find them covered with a think, brown slime. Disgusted, he wiped the reside on his pants and continued walking down the sloping tunnel. After walking for about 10 minutes, Draco was about to turn back and give up. But, that’s when he saw it. Another door. This one steel, with a wooden bar across it so as to keep it locked. Gingerly lifting up the wooden bar, he tried pushing against the door. Nothing.

“Alohomora,” he whispered. However, this time, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Alohomora,” he spoke, louder this time. Yet, the door would not open. What the fuck??

“Destorits,” he shouted, pointing his wand purposely at the door. Crashing and groaning, the door fell in on itself. "There we go."

Walking over the debris, Draco gasped at the horrible smell that filled his nostrils.

"Gods, it smells like rotting corpses down here."

Chocking on his own bile, he covered his mouth with the collar of his shirt, the pungent odor too much to bear without some protection. Shining his wand around the room, he discovered it to be some kind of dungeon. Feeling something cold and wet on his skin, he looked up to see water running along a leak in the ceiling. Ancient, rusty cells lined the back wall and sitting in the corners of the room were what looked to be some kind of muggle torture devices. He’d seen them in his Muggle Studies books. A tean-zu, an iron maiden, stocks, a cage known as a keep, the pear of anguish and a guillotine. All these devices used by muggles to cause each other pain, all contained in this torture chamber.

Bloody Merlin. I remember the book said these devices were outlawed in the Wizarding World. The pain they caused was almost equal, if not above that of the Crucio curse.

Walking over to the pear of anguish, Draco could see blood still stained the device. Upon closer inspection, he saw that all of these devices still contained traces of fresh blood and other unidentifiable bits of rotten body parts. Draco backed away, truly disgusted and nauseated by the sight.

“Draco?” a voice whispered from the darkness feebly. “Draco, is that you?”

Turning around, stunned by the raspy voice, Draco pointed his wand its direction. Looking into one of the rusty cells, his wand dropped to the floor, his heart came to a sudden halt, and the blood drained from his already pale face.

Oh. My. Gods.

A/N: So, there ya go. Hope you guys like this chapter. *eyes review button and winks*
A/A/N: For those of you who know nothing about Friedrich Nietzsche, he was a German philosopher and is considered by many to be the father of postmodernism and existentialism. His views were embraced by the Nazi’s and his philosophy became an inspiration to Hitler. As such, Nietzsche’s name became synonymous with anti-Semitism. However, he harshly attacked anti-Semitism and nationalism, especially the German’s obsession with power. Ah, isn’t irony great?