Seventh Horcrux

Harry Potter vs. Himself (Pt. 1)

The delivery owl drifted into Hermione's kitchen, buoyed by a summer breeze. While she offered it a knut and a bit of toast, I snagged the Prophet.

"That's rather rude, you know," she huffed as the owl flew away.

I glanced up from the newspaper, frowning. "You're the one who asked me to come outside for meals."

Hermione pouted. "But you stole my paper."

"You also asked me to keep up with the news," I said.

With a groan and a muttered, "Too early for this," Hermione turned her attention to her breakfast.

I hummed thoughtfully as I skimmed the front page. "Looks like Dumbledore died."

Hermione gasped, dropping her toast, and I continued, "Some sort of wasting sickness. Probably Dragon Pox. I told him to get that arm checked out."

"Is there a funeral?" she asked, all sniffles and crocodile tears.

"Doesn't say" – I spotted several familiar names in the article below it – "Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry, too."

Hermione's eyes widened, all attempts at grief forgotten. "WHAT?!"

"It doesn't explicitly say that, but it's pretty heavily implied," I assured her. "Also, Snape's the new headmaster."

Hermione pushed her plate away. "Oh, Harry, this is awful."

"I know! Slytherin will win the House Cup for sure," I said.

"Not that!" she snapped. "Voldemort has control over Hogwarts. He hates Muggleborns –"

"Allegedly."

"– and he despises you, and I'm your Muggleborn best friend. There's absolutely no way we can return to Hogwarts. How are we supposed to prepare for our NEWTs?"

I blinked. "Really? That's your problem with this? I assumed you were talking about the murder."

She buried her face in her hands and seemed to be having some difficulty breathing.

"It'll be fine," I reassured her. "I just turned seventeen. We grab Ron, go on the run, and finish the task Dumbledore set for us."

Hermione peeked upwards, eyes alight with curiosity. "Task?"

"There are five items necessary to defeat Voldemort," I said. "We have to gather them all and use them in a Dark ritual."

It was time to collect my Horcruxes. Once Voldemort fell, who knew what would happen to them?

I continued, "They include the Gaunt ring, Voldemort's pet snake, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup –"

"Those are lost artifacts, Harry," Hermione said. "People have been searching for them for generations."

I snorted. "Voldemort found them. How hard can it be? We don't even have to find the last one. He's currently wearing Slytherin's locket."

"So we'll need to get it off of his neck, then?" Hermione asked.

"Not a problem," I said cheerfully. "If he has it, then it'll be there when we need it. He's actually helping us by keeping it close because he is arrogant and insane."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. "That makes thing easier for us, I suppose. We'll need someplace to stay –"

"Way ahead of you," I assured her.

"Not the trunk," she said.

"No, not that. It's better than the trunk. I'll tell you about it once we've grabbed Ron."