A/N: Here it is, folks. The End. There was an epilogue, but I decided to remove it because it doesn't really work with what I've got planned now as the sequel. Plus everyone found it very confusing, so there's also that... Anyways, thank you for reading!

XL.
Should Have Known Better
[Shell Cottage | October 1997]

"Of course we're at the beach." Mr. Dark grumbles, dragging their suitcase along the dusty road winding towards the edge of a steep cliff, upon which is perched a small stone cottage. "I hate the beach. All that…"

"Sand. I know. At least it's not hot." V says, squinting. "Looks an awful lot like Selwyn's cottage. We're in England, right? We haven't…left, have we?"

"I don't think so. I think we'd know?" Dark stops to rest for a moment and catch his breath. "Would I know? Sometimes I don't think I know anything anymore." He coughs up a lungful of sand.

"Well, keep hanging out with me and that's going to become a very familiar feeling." V's hand is at her brow in an attempt to shield the blinding sun from her sensitive eyes. "What do I say?"

"What? You're the one who knows the kid." Dark hoists the suitcase again.

"I need you to stay behind me." She says. "They might be hostile…"

"You act like I've never dealt with wizards before." Dark rolls his eyes. "They're always hostile."

"This is a delicate situation." V says, pinching the tips of her fingers together. The sand shifts soundlessly under their feet as they approach the door. Just out of sight the ocean crashes against the cliffs, its waters caught up in the crags, swirling and foaming and drawn back out to the deep brilliant blue source, which looks almost black against the bright blue sky and the white sun-drenched sand and the bleached stone cottage before them. Above, in the powdery blue heavens, a lone gull cries. The door to the cottage swings open mere seconds before V raps her knuckles against the weathered oak planks.

Inside, a radio wheezes snippets of news. Fourteen dead in Leeds. Giants moving northward from the Caucuses. Child found in Aberdeen, dark hair, no identification, contact your local ministry official…

"State your business." A voice demands, issued from a shadowy figure behind the tip of a wand leveled right at V's heart. Bodies shift in the shadows. Hurried whispers are exchanged. "I said State your business." The figure steps forward and the light falls on a young man with flaming red hair, his face pinched and sallow, like he's not been getting enough to eat. There's a slight tremor in his wand arm.

"Another Weasley. My, this world is full of them." V muses, trying to pull her hair out of her face with some semblance of grace. "I'm Victoria Spektor. I taught your brother Ronald at Hogwarts…briefly…"

"Ah. Yes. I've heard about you." Bill Weasely says, sizing her up.

"All good things, I hope." V smiles, "I'm here to see Mr. Potter. Is he in?"

"I don't know why you thought to come here, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Harry Potter isn't here." Bill Weasley says resolutely. A shadow moves within the cottage.

"I have something very important to give him." V says, stepping closer to Bill. He stands his ground. "Please, we've come such a long way, at great risk to our safety."

"Who's he?" Bill asks, nodding his head towards Dark, who's set the suitcase down and is standing behind V, squinting up at the clouds, his hands in his pockets.

"My…associate, Mr. Dark." She says, searching quickly for a better title than "housekeeper," which no longer seems to suit him. "He's not a Death Eater, if that's what you're thinking."

"I still can't believe they call themselves that." Dark's attention snaps to the conversation, cringing as a look of revulsion spreads across his unnaturally handsome face.

"Is there someone from the Order we can talk to, at least?" She asks, starting to grow frustrated.

"Last I heard, you're no longer welcome in the Order." A gruff voice says from behind Bill, who steps aside to reveal Alastor Moody.

"It would be extremely foolish on that basis alone to turn me away. Five minutes of your time and a hot cuppa is all I ask, and then we'll leave, if you insist." The two men look at each other, silently conferring, and let their curiosity get the better of them. They step aside and allow V and Mr. Dark to enter.

The sudden shift from blinding sun to cool damp interior shade is jolting to the pair, and they take a moment to adjust their eyes and get their bearings. It's a small cottage, with one main room on the ground floor that is partially divided to form a kitchen on one end and a sitting area on the other. A small winding staircase climbs into the rafters, where V assumes is the sleeping quarters. Light streams in through the beaded sea glass windows, and the aroma of yesterday's dinner hangs in the stale air. As she shrugs off her cloak, V hears the creak of a floorboard above her head, but does not acknowledge it.

"Nice place you've got here." Mr. Dark says, looking around. "Cozy."

"I think it's only fair I collect your wands." Alastor Moody says, approaching V first. She nods in agreement and hands over her wand. When he approaches Mr. Dark, he just stands there. "Your wand, sir." Alastor says sternly, holding out his hand.

"I don't have one." He says.

"He's…not a wizard." V interjects, unsure how to tell the truth without causing serious alarm.

"Yes…I thought there was something strange about you." Moody says, peering at Dark with his googly glass eye. "There's some strange magic about you. You're some kind of a creature. A changeling? Veela?"

"Um…?" Dark looks at V nervously. Alastor Moody pats him down, checking that he isn't concealing a wand, or any other sort of weapon, on his person. He comes up with nothing.

"I apologize for Alastor's insensitivity." Bill Weasley says, glaring at Moody. "He's from a different era, where apparently calling other races creatures was considered acceptable."

"That's alright." Dark smiles, baring his teeth.

"Fleur, would you mind putting the kettle on? We have visitors." Bill calls to his wife, who is moving about the kitchen. Bill seats them at the kitchen table while Moody trundles upstairs to inform Harry of the visitors.

"Says she's got something very important to give you." Moody growls, "Can't imagine what…"

"You don't think…" Ron says, looking at Hermione, and then Harry.

"She would have one, wouldn't she?" Hermione says. "Of course she would. But what if it's a trick?"

"It's worth a shot." Harry concludes, getting up and striding out of the room. When V sees him come down the stairs, she stands up, almost spilling her tea.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Potter." She says, holding out her hand for Harry to shake. He does not take it.

"Professor." Harry nods, sitting opposite her at the table. Bill pours him some tea.

"I believe you've been looking for these." She slips a chain from around her neck with a ring dangling from it, set with a black stone bearing the mark of the deathly hallows. The ring she always wore. "Don't put it on. Keep it on the chain. It's cursed." Harry looks blankly at the ring, a bit confused. "You are trying to gather all the horcruxes, right? Or did I just…I mean, you must be…you do know what a horcrux is, don't you?" Harry's eyes widen and he blinks several times in disbelief. All these months he's been hunting horcruxes, and today one just falls into his lap.

"I thought…" Harry stares at it. "Yeah, I know, but…the necklace…"

"Is mine. This was his. And now it's yours. Do whatever you want to with it." Dismissively, she pushes the ring across the table towards him. Harry gingerly plucks it up by the chain.

"Why now?" Harry narrows his eyes. "You knew this whole time. I mean, this whole time, you've had it, and you've known what it is?" Harry asks, squinting at the ring, trying to keep his anger and frustration within from showing.

"Of course I knew what it was. I helped him make it." V immediately regrets telling him that, but what's done is done.

"Where are the others then?" Harry demands, his anger becoming more evident.

"I don't know. There was the diary, but you've got that sorted…" V thinks, eyes drifting to the corners of the room, the ceiling, the door... "I'm sorry, I don't know much more than that. But… well…now you've got one less to find…." V and Dark start to rise from their seats. "Should be going now probably…"

"No. You can't. You can't just leave like that." Harry says. "You can find out. Where the others are. What they are. You have to."

"I can't, Harry." She says solemnly. "This is up to you now. But I know you will succeed."

"Wait, what? Are you kidding me? This is bullshit! You've…" Harry pounds on the table. "I don't understand. Are you still playing both sides?"

"I think you should go now." Moody grabs her arm and drags her out of her seat and towards the door. Dark follows quickly after her. "Here, take your bloody wand and go." He shoves the wand into her hand. Dark picks up the suitcase and slips out the door.

"Why are you still protecting him?" Harry yells. "Answer me! He killed my parents!"

But V does not answer him, not right away. She just stands there in the doorway, looking at the strong, dark-haired boy with the vibrant green eyes and the famous scar on his pale forehead. The boy who, as an infant, almost killed the man she thought she loved, or never really loved at all. And then she raises both hands, palms out, and shrugs her shoulders, as if to say I have no idea. And she didn't. She didn't know why she didn't stick it out, put a plan in motion, find the other horcruxes and tell Harry how to destroy them. It's not like it would've been difficult.

But the boy standing before her is so much more than just a boy. She thinks, for a moment, about the night his parents died, about the fateful moment he crossed paths with Voldemort and altered his destiny. She thinks, then, about the moment she became involved in Tom's life. It doesn't seem fair that Harry must be the one to kill him. If it wasn't for her… No. He was already deeply interested in dark magic. He would've found a way. All of this still would've happened…probably...and she would be dead. But she can't help but wonder.

"I don't know what I'm doing." V admits after a long pause. Her mouth is dry, and the words catch in her throat. And then, because his expression indicates that he clearly isn't satisfied with such a response, "Trust your instincts, Harry." This garners no more satisfaction, but at least it's something. And with that, she slips her wand into her pocket, draws her cloak around her, and disappears beyond the threshold, out onto the bright sandy beach. A whirl of sand whips up in the wind, surrounding V as she walks along the cliffs, and finally disappears beyond the dunes.