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The Most Beautiful Witch Chapter 33
🕑 Added 2025-11-12 16:59:01 +0000 UTCFresh paint covered the walls of the house they arrived in. The second that Harry’s feet landed in this strange place, he could smell it. They were in a narrow entryway that stretched out a ways, and it seemed immaculately clean. Old gas lamps illuminated the hall, showing off a few doors and a staircase that led upwards.
Dumbledore dusted off his robes as he stepped forward. “Welcome to your new home,” he announced with a perfect mixture of solemness and sincerity.
No one else seemed to know where they were either, except for Sirius, who walked forward as though in a stupor.
“This is…”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore smiled brightly. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place. A home under the Fidelius Charm, which will keep you all safe from potential invaders. I trust that it’ll suit your purposes.”
Harry ignored the man and stepped forward. “Sirius?” He said, placing a hand on the man’s arm.
“This is where I grew up,” Sirius said with a tremendous amount of dread in his voice. “I lived on the top floor with my brother. I… when I gave this over to you, Albus, I’d never have expected you to change it so much.”
“Well, I certainly couldn’t expect you to live in such a drab and dingy home, now could I?” Dumbledore chuckled. “I have done my best to renovate the building to fit your family’s needs. However, I expect that myself and the others of the Order of the Phoenix will need to visit here from time to time for meetings.”
“The Order of the Phoenix?” Daphne repeated. “Professor McGonagall said something about an order.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore grimaced. “She told me as much. I hadn’t expected any of you to be involved quite yet, but circumstances as they are, it is only appropriate for you to understand the full scope of the conflict that you are about to enter.
“The Order of the Phoenix is a group that I formed during Voldemort’s first rise to power. Upon realising just how many pure-bloods he’d brought into his fold, I knew that a team of witches and wizards who weren’t constrained to the Ministry’s rules were needed in order to surveille and counter what his Death Eaters were up to. With his presumed death, the Order came to an end, but I have resurrected it since Harry informed me of Voldemort’s return.”
“And you didn’t think to let us know of this?” Astoria blurted out angrily.
To his credit, Dumbledore looked embarrassed. “I had hoped to avoid burdening you with this. The three of you already had so much to deal with, and with the actions of Draco Malfoy—”
“You decided it was best to keep this from us,” Astoria finished for him, shaking her head in frustration. “How much of an ego do you need to have to believe that you know what you should and shouldn’t keep from us. This is ridiculous.”
Harry couldn’t disagree with her. It’d been over half a year since he’d formed this group, and the fact that he hadn’t bothered to even inform Harry about its existence seemed ridiculous. Voldemort was determined to kill Harry. It would be nice to know that he had more allies on his side, if only for the morale it offered him.
“I made the choice I thought was best at the time,” Dumbledore replied to Astoria. “You were all students of mine and unable to operate within the rest of the world. I feared that informing you of the Order’s activities would only distract you from your schooling and the trials that you already faced. Now that you are no longer attending Hogwarts, I believed that it was the proper time to inform you of the Order’s existence.”
It was yet another one of Dumbledore’s ploys to gain sympathy with them, and it frustrated Harry to no end that he could truly see Dumbledore’s perspective in it all. He didn’t agree with the man in the slightest, but he understood it, and that made his current situation all the more frustrating.
“I understand that none of you are happy with me at the moment, but I would ask that you extend your patience a little bit further. We have much to discuss today. It is time to lay all of the cards on the table, so to speak,” Dumbledore said.
He gestured towards a small sitting room. Inside, three sofas sat around a long table that had piles of notes scattered atop it. Tidy, neat scrawl covered each parchment, only broken up by the occasional magical formula or rough sketch. Dumbledore weaved his wand, collecting the parchment into a single pile. As soon as the table was cleared, a tray of biscuits and tea arrived.
Upon seeing the tray, Sirius groaned. “Don’t tell me that he’s still around.”
“He is indeed,” Dumbledore said. “But you may find him far more sympathetic later on. For now, he will remain elsewhere.”
Harry, Astoria, and Daphne looked at Sirius oddly, but the man just plopped down on one of the sofas in annoyance and snatched a chocolate biscuit to munch on. The three of them sat down on another sofa together, leaving Anastasia and Cyrus to join Sirius while Dumbledore took up residence upon the final one.
Leaning forward, Dumbledore rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together as he peered over his glasses into Harry’s eyes. “I believe that I owe you many answers to questions that must be plaguing your mind. However, I first need you to understand that I did not have all of the answers as early as it may seem. It took a tremendous amount of time and research to uncover several of them, but let’s begin with something I have known about for a long time: the prophecy.”
Harry perked up. Daphne had been musing about the prophecy for days now, trying to imagine what it could’ve said to cause Voldemort to pursue Harry for so long.
Dumbledore grabbed the top sheet of parchment and passed it across the table to Harry. “This contains the exact recording of the prediction made over two decades ago, just a few months before your birth.”
Harry picked up the parchment. His eyes scanned the words slowly as Astoria and Daphne read over his shoulders.
“My parents defied Voldemort three times?” Harry asked aloud.
Dumbledore nodded. “First when they were merely students at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters extended an invitation from Voldemort himself to your father to recruit him into their ranks, but he expressively refused them. A duel broke out where your mother came to his aid, and they battered back their enemies. The second time came soon after I recruited them into the Order of the Phoenix. I… I was eager to take the fight directly to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We lost too many good men and women because of that choice. Your parents attended one of our first counterattacks designed to stop the Death Eaters’ muggle-hunting practices. They battled them in the centre of Stoke, and your father managed to catch Voldemort with a glancing cutting curse in his thigh.
“The third and final defiance came once the Death Eaters began targeting those they deemed as blood traitors. Order members were prime targets, and we lost eight of our members in the course of a single weekend. As soon as we realised what the Death Eaters were doing, we grouped up to offer each other protection. Your parents were there the night that Frank Longbottom was attacked after finishing his shift as an Auror. They battled back against the Death Eaters until Voldemort himself arrived. The fight only continued briefly from there as your parents were more focused on getting Frank to safety than trying to deal with the Death Eaters that outnumbered them.
“Those were the three defiances that I believe make up the conditions of the prophecy. Of course, they battled against Death Eaters more than just those three times, but these were the only times in which Voldemort was closely involved in the situation. Once Voldemort realised that they had a son who was born at the end of July, I believe that he decided that you were a likely candidate for the prophecy.”
Pride filled Harry’s chest at hearing of his parents fighting back against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. In a way, it made him feel a little less alone in the fight even though they were gone.
“And the scar is how Voldemort marked him, right?” Astoria asked, jumping to the next line in the prophecy.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore said gravely. “He hadn’t expected to mark you, Harry. As we all know, he tried to murder you, but your mother’s love for you kept you safe.”
“He will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives,” Astoria read on. She shook her head in disbelief. “This is what convinced Voldemort that he had to…”
Dumbledore’s grim smile was the only answer they needed.
Harry recoiled back in his seat, exhaling the breath he’d kept in for far too long. A simple prophecy made by a Seer had altered his life inextricably, leaving him with a path that was bound to only end in confrontation.
“Was it the prophecy that made Voldemort try to kill me or was it an inescapable fate?” Harry murmured under his breath.
Dumbledore, of course, overheard him. “Regardless of the prophecy’s validity, Voldemort truly believed in it. A minority of prophecies recorded within the Ministry of Magic have become true, and he wanted to leave nothing to chance. He acted with the belief that the prophecy is true, but you should not burden yourself with the impossible question of whether it is real or not. What matters most is how you plan to respond to his attacks.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Daphne blurted out suddenly. “Voldemort destroyed our home, and no one knows that the man is even alive. The Death Eaters are after us but the public thinks us villains thanks to the Daily Prophet. How can we counter his attacks if we have no one on our side.”
“You aren’t alone,” Dumbledore reminded her gently. “You have me, the Order of the Phoenix, and everyone else who believes in light supplanting darkness. The fight may be long, but it will be well worth it. And I have a path for us to begin upon. Kreacher, will you come in here please?”
An elderly, hunched-over house-elf suddenly appeared in the room. His long ears drooped down to his shoulders, and he was hunched over, clutching something tightly to his chest.
Sirius glared angrily at the house-elf. “Miserable old bugger,” he muttered.
“Now, now,” Dumbledore chastised him. “I understand your complicated history with Kreacher, but I believe that you will be quite surprised to hear his story. Kreacher?”
Kreacher barely looked up as he began to speak in a creaking voice. “Master Regulus once came to Kreacher with a mission. Kreacher was to… help the Dark Lord hide a locket. Kreacher drank the potion in the basin so that the Dark Lord could put the locket in there. It was… horrible.” Kreacher trembled at the memory, snapping his eyes shut and wringing his hands together. Harry caught a brief glimpse of a gold chain dangling out of the house-elf’s hands. “The potion appeared in the basin again once the locket was put inside. The Dark Lord left Kreacher there, so Kreacher returned home and told Master Regulus about what had happened.”
“What are we listening to this for?” Sirius suddenly blurted out angrily, getting to his feet.
“Sirius, please,” Dumbledore said gently. “It’ll only take a moment—”
“No,” Sirius pulled away, storming off towards the doorway. “My brother was a bloody Death Eater. That’s it. End of story. I don’t need to hear anymore of…”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish. Some angry, choked sound escaped Sirius’ throat before he left the room.
“I’m sorry about that,” Dumbledore said to everyone, who were still staring at the doorway. “Family is a sensitive matter for Sirius.”
“He left home when he was sixteen, right?” Harry brought up, being reminded of a conversation he’d briefly had with Sirius last summer. “My dad’s family took him in.”
“They did,” Dumbledore confirmed. “His home life had been less than pleasant. With his parents supporting Voldemort and the path that his younger brother had chosen to take weighing on him, he’d thought of nothing else besides forging a better life for himself. I doubt that you’ll find him very talkative about his time living here, especially where his brother is concerned.”
“Is Regulus in Azkaban?” Daphne asked.
“No,” Dumbledore shook his head. “He died nearly two years before the end of the First Wizarding War. But I believe that Kreacher can shine more light on that subject.”
The house-elf had been as still as an inanimate object throughout Sirius’ outburst and the brief talk afterwards. It was only upon his name being spoken again that he started moving and talking again.
“It was a few weeks later that Master Regulus asked Kreacher to bring him back to that cave,” Kreacher began. “Kreacher didn’t want to. Kreacher warned Master Regulus against it, but he insisted. Master Regulus had created an identical locket to the one that the Dark Lord had hidden. In that cave, Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to stand by and watch as he drank the potion himself and to then take the locket out and replace it with the fake one.” Tears began to drip down off of the house-elf’s chin. “Kreacher did as he was ordered, but Kreacher could not escape with Master Regulus. He… dead bodies pulled him beneath the waves… and Kreacher had to leave. Master Regulus ordered him to leave and to…”
“Destroy the locket,” Dumbledore finished sympathetically for the house-elf.
Kreacher could only nod as sobs wracked his body.
“Could I have the locket, Kreacher?” Dumbledore asked gently, holding out his hands.
“You… you still promise, right?” Kreacher asked, hesitating.
“I do,” Dumbledore replied sincerely. “The locket will be destroyed.”
It looked like it physically hurt the house-elf to part with the locket. His hands were trembling as he passed the locket over to Dumbledore, and then he flung himself away as though he would be too tempted to take it back if he remained close by. Then, he disappeared with a crack.
“He’s been waiting for over twenty years to finish his master’s final request,” Dumbledore said sadly.
“Merlin,” Cyrus shook his head. “He must be mad. You all remember what happened to the Selwyn house-elf when her master died.”
“Poor thing went mad with grief and tore open her flesh when she couldn’t fulfil his final command,” Anastasia sighed. “It’s a miracle that Kreacher hasn’t done the same.”
“His will to fulfil his master’s last wish is stronger than any pain he could endure from not performing it,” Dumbledore said. “And it is in our interest that he has kept this locket for all this time. Tell me, do you know what it is?
Dumbledore held out the locket, dangling from a golden chain. It was an oval-shaped locket with a serpentine S on the front inlaid with glittering green stones. Ornate designs rimmed the locket, creating a rather refined appearance.
Harry leaned forward to get a better look but couldn’t figure out what it was beyond the obvious. He shook his head in the negative.
“I would be worried if you did,” Dumbledore chuckled warmly. “This is something that Voldemort himself has created in order to extend his lifespan. However, I fear that this is not the only one.”
“You mean—” Anastasia gasped loudly and turned away from Dumbledore. She got up and began pacing back and forth as her breathing grew louder.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore commented, his tone suddenly shifting to something far more grave.
“Oh sweet Merlin.” Anastasia dropped to her knees and grabbed onto the leg of a nearby table as though it would somehow stabilise her. Her body was trembling, and Daphne leapt to her feet in concern.
“Mum, what’s wrong?” Daphne asked as she wrapped an arm around her wait.
“It’s… he’s… I never imagined that anyone would do this again knowing its history,” Anastasia blurted out.
“I fear that he’s unaware of the history of horcruxes,” Dumbledore said. “Or, if he is, he believes that he is somehow above it. Tom always had believed himself to be someone special, someone to whom rules did not apply. This is but one of his horcruxes, and I believe that another one has already been destroyed.”
Harry felt the need to interject. “What exactly is a horcrux?” He asked, and Anastasia shrivelled at the name.
Dumbledore took a deep sigh before he spoke. “A horcrux is a magical object created by Dark witches and wizards. They tear apart their souls and hide fragments of it within whatever object they choose, turning it into a horcrux. Should their mortal body ever die, their soul will remain anchored to the world of the living. This is how Voldemort remained alive after failing to kill you, Harry.”
“But now he’ll be vulnerable again, right?” Anastasia suddenly said. “We just need to destroy this horcrux of his and then he can be killed again.”
“I fear not,” Dumbledore grimaced.
“What do you mean?” Anastasia shrieked. “Don’t tell me he’s made more than one.”
“I believe he has,” Dumbledore said. “As a young man, Voldemort was obsessed with the innate power of magic and how numerology played into it. I expect that he has split his soul in three, five, seven, eight, or thirteen pieces.”
“Thirteen pieces? Is that even possible?” Anastasia asked.
“I do not know,” Dumbledore admitted. “The idea of creating more than one was theoretical for hundreds of years. The fact that he’s created more than one is deeply concerning.”
“How do you know that he’s created more than one?” Astoria asked.
Instantly, Harry knew the answer.
“Tom Riddle’s diary,” Harry said aloud, bringing everyone’s eyes back over to him. “That was a horcrux, wasn’t it?”
Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed it was. I must admit to you now Harry that I did not know that it was a horcrux at the time it appeared in Hogwarts. It being a horcrux was a remote suspicion of mine, but there were several other plausible options as well. I spent many months trying to investigate what it could’ve been, but with the object destroyed, my abilities were severely hampered. It is only now that I’ve had the time to examine this locket that my understanding of the diary has been made whole.”
Astoria, having heard the story from Harry, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Daphne finally coaxed her mum back onto the sofa. “If Voldemort did split his soul into three parts, then we’d have found both horcruxes, right? Do we have any way of knowing for sure if he made more?”
“Unfortunately not,” Dumbledore answered. “An old colleague of mine, Professor Horace Slughorn, may know more given his former closeness with Voldemort when he was but a student at Hogwarts, but he’s gone into hiding. I believe that he may have learnt about Voldemort’s return somehow and known that it would be best for him to hide. Otherwise, there are no magical means that I’m aware of that can track down horcruxes.”
“And you feel confident that there are more out there?” Harry asked him.
Dumbledore only gave the slightest hesitation before nodding. “The Voldemort I know would not hesitate to show his superiority by making as many horcruxes as possible.”
“Then we need to try to find the rest before confronting him,” Harry said confidently. “But where would he hide the others? The diary was with Lucius Malfoy. What about the cave? Where was that?”
“I visited the location only yesterday on the coast,” Dumbledore informed him. “And I believe that, given the cave’s proximity to a seaside town that Voldemort would’ve visited as a child when he was living in an orphanage, Voldemort has chosen to hide his horcruxes in places that hold a special significance to him. After all, no one would’ve expected Voldemort to come from a muggle orphanage.”
“You mean that he wasn’t a pure-blood wizard then?” Daphne asked, her eyebrows raising in surprise.
Dumbledore nodded. “His father was a muggle,” he confirmed. “And I believe that his father’s home might be the next place we should search for his horcruxes. Unfortunately, it is a place that may have some poor memories for Harry here.”
“It’s by the graveyard, isn’t it?” Harry said grimly. Of course, it just had to be that place. The place he’d nearly died.
“It is,” Dumbledore answered. “The Riddle House sat atop the hill above the graveyard, and I believe it is where Voldemort may have lived until his body was returned to him. There may be more information to be found there.”
“Won’t he still be there?” Harry asked.
“I would be surprised if he was,” Dumbledore replied. “The house itself is old and derelict. With his Death Eaters learning about his return, it is likely that he has taken up residence inside of one of their homes; he always had a penchant for the finer things.”
“It feels good to know that we have a plan,” Harry admitted as he leaned back in his seat. After months of dealing with Draco and the other Slytherins constantly coming after him, Astoria, and Daphne while they had to be on the defensive, being proactive about things felt like a welcomed relief. Finally, they would be able to go out and do some real damage to the man who wouldn’t let them live in peace. “When can we go investigate the place?”
“That is a more difficult answer,” Dumbledore said. “My duties at Hogwarts are bound to keep me busy for the foreseeable future. In a couple of weeks time, perhaps—”
“That’s not good enough,” Harry stated plainly. He wasn’t angry anymore at Dumbledore’s constant cry for patience, but he also wouldn’t tolerate it. “I’m not waiting a couple of weeks for a maybe.”
“Going alone would not be recommended,” Dumbledore cautioned him. “I have no knowledge of what types of magic that Voldemort has placed upon his father’s home. If they are anything like those that he placed upon the cave, then your life will be in danger the entire time that you are there.”
“My life is already in danger every second that that monster continues to live,” Harry countered. “I will go, but I won’t be alone. Astoria, Daphne, and I will take up all caution necessary in our investigation, but we’re done sitting around and waiting for things to happen to us. We will be the agents of change this time.”
“I see that there’s no talking you out of this,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Then I wish you well, and with a reminder that help will always come to those who ask for it. Should any of you need anything…”
“This isn’t a goodbye, professor,” Astoria interjected quickly. She shot Harry and Daphne both pleading looks before turning back to the man. “While we may not agree with everything you’ve done, you’re still a fountain of wisdom and magical knowledge. If the Order of the Phoenix is meeting here, then why not induct us in as members? We can update you all on our search, and you can help us with whatever information you all find too.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dumbledore smiled. “As long as the others are okay with it.”
Astoria turned to Harry and Daphne with hope in her eyes. She truly wanted this for them, and Harry wasn’t in a mind to disagree with her. Despite his reservations with the man, Dumbledore was known as the greatest wizard of his age for a reason. He turned to Daphne and saw the same conclusion on her face.
“Of course we are,” Harry confirmed.
“Excellent then,” Dumbledore clapped his hands together. “Then we will induct you as our newest members at our next meeting. I will send you an owl once the time has been decided. Until then, there’s only one matter left to deal with.”
“Destroying the horcrux,” Daphne said.
Dumbledore stood up from his seat and reached into his robes. He came out with the wide-brimmed, old, brown Sorting Hat. He handed it over to Harry as he set the locket down on the table.
“You know what to do,” he said.
As Harry stood up, so did everyone else. They cleared a large space around the table as Harry reached into the Sorting Hat. He was down to his elbow when his hand grasped the ruby pommel of the Sword of Gryffindor.
He drew the silver blade from the hat and wielded it with both hands.
“I believe that you must command it to open and then strike true in the centre of it,” Dumbledore informed him.
“Open,” Harry repeated, but the word came out all slithery off of his tongue.
A cold chill filled the air as the locket snapped open. Voldemort’s blood-red eyes stared back at him from the two panes of glass within as Harry stabbed forward with the blade, refusing to hesitate for even a second.
The shriek that resulted from the stab caused everyone except for Harry and Dumbledore to cover their ears and cringe in pain. The room seemed to rattle around them as the scream faded out of existence, leaving nothing behind but a smoky wisp rising from the shattered interior of the locket.
Suddenly, Kreacher appeared and snatched up the locket. He snapped it back closed, and it looked perfectly intact.
“It’s done?” Kreacher asked in a reverent tone as he raised the locket up to the sky.
“It’s done,” Dumbledore confirmed. “The locket is yours to keep, as a memory of Regulus. You’ve helped to finish his mission, Kreacher.”
The house-elf disappeared before Dumbledore was even finished speaking, not that the old Headmaster seemed to mind.
Dumbledore walked over and patted Harry on the shoulder. “You did well today. I appreciate you being so willing to listen to me after everything that we’ve been through. I trust you to hunt down Voldemort’s horcruxes, and any aid I can offer, I’ll be glad to give it.”
“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely as he set down the Sword of Gryffindor onto the table where the locket had been.
This was the second Horcrux destroyed. No one knew how many more were left, but it felt like a gigantic leap forward.
Finally, Voldemort’s vulnerability had been unveiled.
