What Souls Are Made Of

Chapter One - The Shattered Clock Face

It was so dark in Bellatrix's vault that even with all three of their wands lit, Harry couldn't make out anything in the distance. His eyes swept over many piles of gold and saucer-like objects but Hufflepuff's cup wasn't one of them. It was becoming harder and harder to avoid touching anything. Several times, he felt a sharp blister of pain as the objects underneath his feet multiplied.

He shone the wand further, and the light bounced off something that glittered. It stood out from the diamonds, the great pearl necklaces, like a brilliant beam of sunlight. Harry was moving forward without being aware of what he was doing, through the piles of expanding objects without even feeling them.

It was a pocket-watch.

Surprisingly heavy, the watch face seemed to shine, like a luminous clock.

'Hermione,' Harry said, turning it over so its light flickered off the gold underfoot. 'What do you think of this?'

But it wasn't Hermione who came up beside him. It was Ron.

'That's not the Horcrux,' Ron said.

Harry barely heard him. The clock-face was too mesmerising to look away from. A tiny voice at the back of his head was saying this was wrong . . . They had to find the Horcrux right now . . .

The hands of the clock were spinning, so fast it was a blur.

'Harry! Quickly!' Hermione's voice sounded like a distant echo. 'Put it down, Harry. Put it down right now.'

She was beside him, and her voice had risen in high hysterics. Gold was multiplying around them, glowing red-hot. Griphook was a tiny shape in the distance.

Hermione lunged for the pocket-watch, intent to bat it from his hands. Ron reached at the same time and there was a great flash as all their hands touched.

Light – brilliant, dazzling white light – seemed to burst from it. There was a noise, high, like the sound of the train. It was a humming, building louder and louder. Harry felt like he was spinning – falling – everything was a haze and the vault seemed to disappear. It was apparition and floo powder – the squeeze of movement, like he was going to be crushed. His lungs were bursting – he was squeezing Hermione's hand so tight bones were bound to shatter –

White, blinding light, that was far from brilliant -

And then it cleared.

Harry landed on something hard. His hands hit the ground and immediately began to sting. His head was still spinning but the squeezing sensation disappeared. When he regained his balance, he was up on his feet, wand out.

This had to be an illusion.

Ron and Hermione were already standing up, their wands out also. 'We're back here?' Ron said. 'What the bloody hell?'

Harry's heart was still pumping with adrenaline and the sheer fear of sneaking into Gringotts. It felt impossible. They were in Bellatrix's vault. Not here.

Not with the grass and the trees – they had been underground, for God's sake – and the great, dark Lake. That hut – Harry would recognise it anywhere.

'How are we at Hogwarts?' he said, squeezing Malfoy's wand tighter. 'Hermione – '

Hermione was very white. 'Griphook,' she said, in a moan. 'Harry he's still there!'

Harry felt a sick sensation in his stomach. He was still in the vault, amongst the piles of multiplying treasure. 'He'll get out,' he said. Would he? 'The minute we left.'

Hermione looked like she was ready to cry. Bellatrix's robes had many holes in them, the ends completely cut off, so the tatty remains ended at her knees. She and Ron were both covered in red, blistering cuts and Harry supposed he had similar.