Seven Horcruxes.
Harry counted on his fingers. "We already know about two. Then there are the three relics of the Founders—that makes five."
"Which means there are still two left."
Snape glanced at the scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry shook his head. "No, I was an accident. That Horcrux shouldn't have been part of his original plan."
"So now he has eight Horcruxes, breaking the magical significance of 'seven.'" Dumbledore chuckled.
The others glared at him.
Dumbledore quickly sobered. "I asked Rita, but unfortunately, she's been busy hunting for werewolves and goblins. She hasn't been paying much attention to Voldemort, and he's done a very thorough job of covering his tracks. Aside from the information stored in the Ministry, we have nothing."
"I've been wondering if we should invite him to the Order of the Phoenix."
"Albus! The Order of the Phoenix is not a place for harboring criminals!"* McGonagall enunciated each word with biting precision.
A name more controversial than Snape's?
Harry looked up.
"Don't look at me, Potter!" Snape sneered. "Control your eyes. I'm nothing like that man."
Flitwick hesitated. "That may be true, but he is a lot like Rita. If we let him gather information for us..."
Sprout leaned over and whispered to Harry, "They're talking about Mundungus Fletcher. You've never met him before—he's... well, you could call him a merchant or an artist. He's fiercely loyal to Dumbledore, but not even as reliable as Sirius."
"Sometimes, he gets caught up in—"
"Pomona, not sometimes," McGonagall snapped. "It's all the time."
"You're being too kind. Fletcher is nothing but a thief. The only thing he cares about is treasure."
She clenched her fists. "Yes, he's loyal to Dumbledore. But he's more loyal to money. He's abandoned Order missions multiple times just for profit."
"He's a criminal!"
"How did Hogwarts end up with a student like him?!"
"And worse, a Gryffindor!"
"He belongs in Azkaban!"
To her, this was a shameful stain on Gryffindor's history—a thief among their ranks.
"But he is useful. Mundungus has had access to many rare, valuable magical artifacts. It's possible he's come across a Horcrux before," Dumbledore said softly. "Even if he hasn't, he knows how to find them better than we do."
"And he's more skilled at tracking them down than Rita is."
Rita Skeeter was a beetle—a tiny thing, scurrying into hidden corners.
Mundungus Fletcher was a rat—living in the sewers, dealing with the dark underbelly of the wizarding world.
"The Order is yours to lead," McGonagall muttered, turning away.
Sprout sighed. "Albus, you cannot entrust critical tasks to him."
Flitwick nodded in agreement.
Snape remained silent. He had never dealt with Mundungus before.
"Then I'll write to Mundungus tonight. He's already caught wind of the Order's revival and has been pestering me non-stop." Dumbledore smiled, snapping his fingers. A quill floated up and jotted down a note.
Harry pushed his hair back, waved his wand, and—using a beautification charm he'd learned from Hermione—froze his hair in place, as if he'd just dumped twenty pounds of hair gel on it. "So, are we finally checking the Horcrux in my head?"
"One more thing first," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.
Harry looked at him.
Dumbledore beckoned.
The Marauder's Map—hanging behind his desk—flew into his hands. "You remember the other Marauder's Map I created?"
Harry nodded.
It functioned almost identically to the one in his pocket, except for one extra feature:
After curfew, any name that did not belong to a current Hogwarts student or staff member would trigger an alarm.
"Recently, many students' pets have gone missing." Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed on the map, watching the shifting names. "My map doesn't hide anything."
McGonagall added, "From what we know, sixteen pets have gone missing in Slytherin. We recovered twelve—it was just pranks—but four remain unaccounted for. Given how Slytherin operates, I can't be certain whether those four are part of a prank or something else."
Snape's expression didn't change.
McGonagall continued. "Gryffindor lost one."
"Hufflepuff lost three."
"Ravenclaw lost one."
She hesitated. "Hagrid told me two of his chickens also went missing. George and Fred swore they didn't steal them for a barbecue. The owlery is missing three communal owls as well."
"We haven't recovered any of them."
Harry nodded. "It's not a large number in each house. But combined, we're talking about ten missing animals."
"But this—"
A few lost pets weren't usually a major issue.
"At first, Minerva and I thought this was just a prank," Dumbledore said softly. "Until, one night, I noticed an alert on the Marauder's Map. Someone—an intruder—had entered Hogwarts."
Harry froze.
Hogwarts' security had been breached again?
Somehow, he wasn't even surprised.
"The students' pets might have been taken by an outsider," Dumbledore said, tapping the map. "But the problem is, I couldn't find out who that outsider was."
"You couldn't find them?" Harry was startled.
The Marauder's Map wasn't an advanced piece of magic, but it was linked to Hogwarts itself.
The only way to truly disappear from the map was to destroy the map, the Book of Admittance, and the Quill of Acceptance.
Not even Dumbledore could hide for long.
And for anyone else, it was nearly impossible.
Even Harry himself could barely manage a one- or two-second disappearance.
Flitwick might be able to stay hidden longer.
But how many wizards in the entire world could match his level of spellwork?
"I couldn't find them," Dumbledore repeated, nodding. "Even when I checked immediately, no unfamiliar names appeared."
Harry frowned.
"And I find it hard to believe someone would infiltrate Hogwarts just to steal students' pets."
The map unfolded into a three-dimensional projection, displaying the entire castle.
"The most valuable thing about those animals is their bond with their owners."
"If someone wanted to profit, they should've gone to the Forbidden Forest instead."
"The castle is safer—"
Harry let out a sharp laugh.
With him, Snape, and Dumbledore inside?
For an average thief, the castle was far more dangerous than the forest.
"Well, I suppose most people wouldn't dare operate under my nose," Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head.
"And yet, they are doing exactly that, right under your nose," Harry said flatly.
Dumbledore didn't take offense. He kept smiling. "That just means they aren't 'most people.'"
"Once we catch them, we'll know the truth."
Harry gave him a long look. "You want me to investigate?"
"The professors—or even I—might not notice things as quickly as you do," Dumbledore admitted. "Harry, when it comes to tracking people, you surpass us all."
Harry nodded. "Understood."
Snape let out a quiet scoff, gripping his wand.
"Alright, let's proceed with checking the Horcrux," Dumbledore said, waving his wand.
Dumbledore raised his wand. Magic surged through the room, causing the furniture to scatter to the edges, leaving only a single chair at the center. With a snap of his fingers, the chair stretched and twisted, reshaping itself into a long table.
"Harry, lie down."
Harry did as he was told.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and placed his wand on the table. He borrowed Flitwick's wand, flicking his wrist. A surge of dark, rotting magic flowed from the tip.
"This magic feels disgusting," Harry muttered, watching the spellwork unfold. "Like a pile of cockroaches crawling over each other."
"Cockroach piles aren't this revolting," Dumbledore muttered, carefully extending the wand toward Harry's forehead.
"I meant cockroaches. I wasn't talking about candy," Harry corrected.
Dumbledore didn't respond. He touched the wand to Harry's scar. "Relax, dear boy. Don't resist. Your Occlumency is stronger than I expected."
Harry loosened his mind. "Dumbledore, you should be grateful you're you."
"Why is that?"
"If anyone else tried this kind of dark magic on me, I'd have punched them in the face by now."
Dumbledore's voice was gentle. "You already have punched me before. Remember last Christmas?"
"So what you're saying is, that punch was actually meant for this moment?"
Dumbledore didn't reply. His expression grew serious, and Harry quieted down as well.
The four Heads of House stood tense, wands in hand, ready to intervene at the first sign of danger.
The spell settled over Harry.
Dumbledore reached out, pinched Harry's nose as if opening a door, and peeled his face open—revealing not muscle, bone, or brain but a glowing soul.
It had the same face as Harry. Eyes closed, breath steady, its translucent form lay still.
Atop Harry's soul, curled up tightly, was a tiny, grotesque baby.
It was barely bigger than a thumb.
It had no nose.
Its breathing was labored, mouth opening and closing as it struggled for air. Its eyes remained shut.
Dumbledore cautiously extended his wand, lightly nudging the creature's arm.
The moment he did, a thick, viscous web of gray-green threads stretched between the Horcrux and Harry's soul.
Elastic, like rubber bands, they snapped back the instant they were pulled.
"This is bad," Snape muttered darkly, his voice rough as a blade scraping against a blackboard.
"It's worse than I thought," Dumbledore admitted, frowning deeply. "They're completely fused. I hoped it would be more like an umbilical cord—just a temporary link, like between a mother and child."
"I doubt Potter wants to be the Dark Lord's mother," Snape sneered. "So what's the solution?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Let me take a closer look."
He gestured, summoning his own wand.
Legilimency.
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Powerstones?
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