A Living Secret ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 8 ~ Research and Revenge

A week later, Hermione had her books and sequestered herself in her bedroom to do research. Her mother and father had to coax her to eat, drink and bathe. Her actions didn’t surprise them. Even when she was a little girl she would lock herself up with her books and had to be threatened with a spanking before she would sullenly come down to breakfast, lunch or dinner Well, they couldn’t spank her now.

Hermione had discovered some interesting things about Horcruxes. For example, a Horcrux and its living counterpart could not be brought together without terrible results. So Voldemort could not be in the presence of anything he placed a soul fragment inside.

Hermione was glad about this, because secretly, from the moment she learned that there could be living Horcruxes, she was afraid that Voldemort had turned Harry into one when he was a baby. She knew it sounded stupid, but what better way to protect the fragment than to have it inside a boy that the entire wizarding world would protect and keep from him? And Harry did get terrible headaches from his scar…and…and…

But Harry had been in Voldemort’s presence in the graveyard during their fourth year, when he returned. At first, Hermione played with the idea that Voldemort actually used Harry to come back, the fragment being taken from the-boy-who-lived when Peter Pettigrew cast the spell to restore his master. But no, Voldemort had his own distorted body then, so had a soul and wouldn’t have needed another Horcrux. And then he tried to kill Harry and was in close proximity to him. He couldn’t have been if Harry contained his soul fragment, and he certainly wouldn’t have tried to kill him. So Harry was in the clear.

After reading a bit more about Horcruxes, she read the theory of how a living Horcrux could be identified.

It required the use of a Signature Stone.

“What’s a Signature Stone?” Hermione mused, leafing through the book. But there was no more information on it.

Since Hermione wasn’t at school, she didn’t have the Hogwarts library to browse through and was forced to go to the Ministry library, which was much more restrictive. However, luckily Signature Stones were not a classified subject. In fact, there was quite a bit of information on them.

Signature stones were used in a medical capacity. They were stones made of quartz that contained the magical signature of an individual and could be used in tangent with a healing spell to strengthen the healing process if he was ill. A sliver of the stone placed in the healer’s wand tip worked like a tuning fork, helping to focus the power to match the signature of the person being healed. When the Signature Stone came in contact with the person whose signature it held, it would warm and glow.

A person’s soul was the source of his magical signature, so if a Signature Stone came in contact with a living Horcrux that held part of that soul, it would glow and identify it.

Well, that was good to know. But the stone would already have to exist to be used. Hermione read on to see what situations would require a Signature Stone to be made. She learned that Signature Stones were often used in places that had their own infirmaries and a large amount of individuals that had to be cared for. Prisons and schools primarily.

Schools.

Hogwarts.

Hermione seemed to remember Madame Pomfrey fiddling with the tip of her wand before examining her after she recovered from being petrified in her second year. The tip had glowed amber at first, then settled into the recognizable blue of healing. Had the medi-witch had a Signature Stone attuned to her?

Hermione began to feel excited.

If Poppy had Signature Stones for the students, she must also have them for the staff. More than likely she had the Headmaster’s Signature Stone…as well as Professor Snape’s. Hermione’s eyes widened.

How long did they keep Signature Stones?

It could be possible that Tom Riddle’s Signature Stone was still at Hogwarts. If it was, if she could get hold of it, Harry could use it! All he would need was a sliver. He could put it on a necklace, or in a ring! And so could she!

But in Hermione’s case, she wanted three stones. Dumbledore’s, Snape’s and Voldemort’s.

Hermione quickly jumped off her bed, ran to her bookshelf and pulled out the latest Edition of “Hogwarts: A History.”

She thumbed through it until she found what she was looking for. The year Tom Riddle arrived at Hogwarts. Nineteen thirty-eight. He was part of the class of nineteen forty-five. Did Madam Pomfrey still have the Signature Stones of students that far back? For some reason, Hermione thought she might, or the stones would be in storage someplace in Hogwarts. Filch was forever carrying boxes down into the subdungeons. She had once heard Professor McGonagall claim that the Headmaster was a packrat and refused to throw anything away to do with Hogwarts.

She hoped this claim were true.

Hermione began to think of the significance of the stones. She doubted anyone had considered them at all, since they weren’t really considered magical items. They were more like health aids and did no magic of their own. Since the topic of Horcruxes was not a common one, and the existence of Voldemort’s Horcruxes a well-kept secret, no one had a reason to think about them. But they could be used to identify a person. Even if they were glamoured or polyjuiced. The human eye could be deceived, but not the stones. You only had to have the proper one in order for it to be utilized.

Hermione closed the history book and lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Everyone assumed Professor Snape was hiding out with Voldemort. But what if he wasn’t? He was a Potions Master and could easily brew Polyjuice. He could be hiding in plain sight and no one would know. If he were captured, it would most likely be dumb luck.

But…if she found him…she could find out what really happened.

If he didn’t kill her on sight, that is. As far as the evidence showed, Professor Snape was a cold-blooded murderer. If he could kill a man who had cared for him for decades, he could certainly kill a student who aggravated the hell out of him for almost seven years.

Still, there was the matter of Hermione feeling Dumbledore’s magic.

The witch didn’t believe he was dead, no matter what anyone else said. She was going to prove it.

She had a lot of work to do when she got back to Hogwarts.

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Harry Potter paced through his family home, trying to figure out how to get started on finding the Horcruxes. He had no idea where any of them were, or even what they were. Voldemort could have hidden his Horcruxes any place. Even outside of England.

Dobby watched Harry pace back and forth, his ears flattened. It distressed him to see Harry so lost and upset. He wished there was something he could do for the-boy-who-lived, but he could do little more than make sure he ate and rested.

“I wish Dumbledore was here,” Harry said, plopping down in an armchair.

Dobby nodded.

“We all wishes the great Dumbledore was still alive, Harry Potter sir,” the house elf squeaked.

Harry’s mind turned toward Hermione. She believed the Headmaster was still alive…that Snape hadn’t killed him.

Harry’s green eyes darkened.

But Snape had killed Dumbledore in cold blood, when he was weak and defenseless. The black-hearted coward. If Harry found him, he had no intention of turning the dark wizard over to the Ministry.

He was going to kill Severus Snape any way he could.

Preferably, he’d be wandless like Dumbledore was. Harry hoped the Potions Master would be terrified and on his knees pleading. Yes, he would be on his knees after being crucio’d several times. Maybe he’d even put a binding spell on the bastard and pummel his face into jelly before he killed him.

Dobby cringed as he felt the hateful vibrations emanating from the young wizard. They were very dark, very…evil. He looked at his friend and employer with wet eyes.

Harry glanced over at Dobby and scowled at the look on his face. Dobby was always worrying about something.

”What’s wrong with you now, Dobby?” Harry asked him in an annoyed voice.

Dobby looked at the wizard dolefully.

”Harry Potter is not himself,” Dobby said meekly.

“What do you mean, I’m not myself? I’m fine,” Harry snapped, “I’m just worried about how I am going to complete my mission.”

Dobby knew about Harry’s upcoming search for the Horcruxes. The elf was trustworthy and would not give away Harry’s secret. The house elf shook his head.

“Harry Potter is not fine. He thinks of…of murder,” Dobby said, wincing a bit at his own honesty.

“Do you mean Snape? That’s not murder…that’s revenge…just desserts,” Harry replied, his eyes glittering. “He killed Dumbledore. He deserves to die.”

Dobby looked at Harry, shivering a little.

”Maybe so, Harry Potter, but that is for the law. That is why the law is. You is not the law, Harry Potter,” Dobby said, “You is becoming dark…like Snape. Do not turn into a Snape, Harry Potter.”

“I am nothing like Snape!” Harry shouted at the elf. “I would never turn on a friend like he did! I would never murder someone who stuck by me! I would never kill an unarmed person!”

Dobby’s sad eyes rested on him.

“You thinks of killing Snape that way,” the elf said softly.

“Snape…Snape is not a…PERSON! He’s a fucking turncoat! A murdering Death Eater!” Harry raged, jumping up out of the armchair and stalking towards Dobby, who pressed up against the wall, throwing up an arm protectively as the angry wizard approached.

“And I’m going to kill him, Dobby, kill him like he killed Dumbledore. I’m not going to even give him a chance. I want him to suffer and die!” Harry hissed in a low, dangerous voice.

Then Harry seemed to realize he was menacing Dobby and turned around, walking back to the armchair and sitting down, resting his face in his hands. Dobby slowly unfolded and stared at Harry shaking his head sadly. Hatred was eating him alive.

“I makes you some tea, Harry Potter,” the elf said, “Some good calming tea, sir.”

”Fine, Dobby. Just fine,” Harry said, his voice muffled.

The elf winked out.

Harry lifted his head, his eyes wet.

“I wish you were here, Headmaster,” he breathed into the empty room, “I really wish you were here, sir.”

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Severus added the next few ingredients to the simmering Polyjuice potion, stirred the contents several times then covered the huge cauldron, turning the flame up slightly. He’d have gallons of it when it was completed, and was more than willing to spend time away from the stronghold and Voldemort. He wanted to see what was being said about him and how the wizarding world was taking the loss of Albus.

He needed to locate Potter too, so he could formulate a plan to direct the young wizard to Voldemort’s Horcruxes. He had to find a way to do it without dealing with him directly. Severus knew that if Harry saw him, the idiot would blast first and ask questions later. He might be forced to hurt the boy. Not that he would mind hurting him, but Potter had a job to do. Dumbledore seemed to think it important that Harry be the one to destroy the Horcruxes.

Severus was torn about that. On the one hand, he wanted to follow the Headmaster’s last directives…but neither of them knew at that time that Voldemort would send Severus himself to locate and check the Horcruxes. Since Voldemort could not feel when they were destroyed, the Potions Master could easily do Potter’s job for him. And he was tempted to do it. It would save so much time and effort, possibly bring Voldemort’s madness to an end sooner rather than later.

Not only did he have to help Potter find the Horcruxes, but orchestrate the showdown between him and the Dark Lord, with the odds in the boy’s favor.

”It would be easier to pull a Manticora out of the Sorting Hat,” Severus snorted out loud.

He didn’t believe Harry could defeat the Dark Lord on his own. He never did. Sybil Trelawney’s wooly prophecy was a load of dragon shit as far as the Potions Master was concerned.

But Albus believed it and Severus spent years being tortured because of it, before finally being forced to take the old wizard’s life…all because of that cursed boy.

Hatred began to boil up in the wizard and he fought it back down. He couldn’t let his personal feelings rule him. Albus, though dead…was still counting on him. Severus intended on fulfilling his wishes and seeing the Dark Lord destroyed by any means necessary.

Even if it meant his own life.

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Fawkes winged his way into the cave of the Acromantula carrying two items in his claws. He let out a cry as he entered to let the creatures know he had returned so they wouldn’t attack. There was a truce going on.

Aragog moved to the head of his cavern as Fawkes landed before the huge spider, and bowed, placing a vial on the ground before him. Aragon squinted all eight eyes at the other object. He could make out something long and fuzzy.

“So you have retrieved it, Fawkes,” the spider said to the phoenix. Fawkes squawked assent.

“Place it in the back of my cavern with the other items,” the spider directed, feeling around the ground until his leg touched the vial. It contained a silver liquid. Fawkes flew to the back of Aragog’s cave and placed the item with the other things stored there for protection. He returned to Aragog, who held the vial in his claw.

“A bit of help, Fawkes?” the spider asked.

Fawkes flew over and perched on Aragog’s leg and pulled the cork out of the wide-mouthed vial with his beak. He flew down and watched as the spider carefully stuck a fang into the tube and suck out the contents. He placed the vial on the ground and Fawkes collected it, rolling it around in his claws until he could replace the cork.

Aragog smacked his mandibles together appreciatively.

“There is nothing sweeter than unicorn blood,” the spider said, feeling renewed.

His children all clicked their mandibles together at his statement. None of them had ever tasted a unicorn and were a bit jealous of their sire. It wasn’t for lack of trying however. Acromantula hunted unicorns as they did any other creatures, but unicorns were fast and ferocious. That horn was a deadly weapon. Well, they used to hunt them. Now, they were strictly off-limits for good. They were providing the blood that kept Aragog alive in exchange for a truce. He only needed a small amount, and the vial was charmed so when placed against the flank of a unicorn, it would painlessly fill with blood. Fawkes collected it every two weeks as agreed.

Aragog looked at Fawkes. All he could see was a red blur.

“You must be tired after your journey,” he said to the Phoenix, who nodded and fluffed up his feathers. He had traveled some distance this past week and it was close to burning time.

“Your perch waits,” the spider said.

Fawkes had a perch in the upper part of Aragog’s cavern as well as a comfortable nest set inside a small fissure in the stone. He trilled a thanks at Aragog, flew over the spider into the cavern once more, then after a moment’s hesitation, landed on a small ledge and climbed into the fissure and settled in his nest, which was more comfortable than the perch.

It wasn’t Albus’ office, but it would do for now.

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A/N: Ah, chapter done. I originally posted this chapter without realizing I had blended “A Song for Severus” in it. Lol. Over a thousand words about Eloise. I was so tired I couldn’t think clearly, but realized it later and took it down, removed the second half and rewrote the rest. Sorry about that ya’ll. One of the flukes of writing two stories at once. The perk is, the next chapter of Song is halfway done now. ;) Thanks for reading.