Author's Note: I apologise for the late update, I don't really have any excuses, I just haven't been writing. Hopefully, this update was worth the wait.

My sincere thanks to TyrannicPuppy for going through the chapter.

Chapter 8: New Revelations

Professor Slughorn, while a welcome substitution for Snape, proved to bring a new problem for Harry. Unlike Snape, Slughorn didn't loathe Harry. No, instead it was the complete opposite. The Professor seemed to idolise him as the legend everyone thought he was. Slughorn was always giving him his utmost attention and would consistently direct questions towards him. It was almost like he was back in second-year with Lockhart, and one thing Harry strongly disliked was unnecessary attention.

Their first lesson consisted of making the Draught of Living Death, with the most successful student gaining a bottle of Felix Felicis. Having assumed he wasn't going to be doing potions this year, he had to use a spare textbook.

Ron, who also needed a textbook, had instantly grabbed the one in better condition and gave Harry a smug smile. Although his smile faded when Harry, without hesitation, sat next to Hermione, leaving a confused Ron to work elsewhere.

"Was that the only spare book available?" Commented Hermione, after seeing the badly worn book in his hand.

Harry shrugged. "Ron took the other book, besides…" He turned to look at her with a sheepish grin. "It adds character don't you think?"

She raised a sceptical brow. "I think it shows that the previous owner didn't care about their book."

"Well not everyone can keep their books looking pristine," he said with a small chuckle. "I have no idea how you manage to keep yours looking practically unused."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him while she organised her ingredients. "Well anyway... You better get started on the potion, with… that." She sent him a triumphant smile, "Looks like I'll be winning the Felix Felicis."

"Like I stood a chance anyway," grumbled Harry quietly, which resulted in Hermione giving him a small smirk.

Opening the book, it quickly became apparent that someone had studied extensively using this book, the pages were heavily annotated, and there were lines crossed out and entirely re-written. Flipping back to the first page the supposed owner of the book was the 'Half-Blood Prince.'

He rolled his eyes. So not only do they seem to know the textbook extensively, but they also call themselves that. Turning to the page on the Draught of Living Death, he compared the owner's notes with what the textbook said. The notes were short and simple but often contradicted what the book said.

For a few seconds he mulled over what to do, and simply decided he'd try to attempt it by following the textbook.

But it quickly became apparent that he wasn't making much progress following the original method. Unless this is a prank by the twins, I don't see what harm a book with notes in it could do… still, best to ask Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione," he whispered with a nudge. "This book is full of notes and suggests a different method to the textbook. Reckon it's safe to follow?"

"I'm trying to work, Harry," replied Hermione lightly, never taking her eyes off her potion. She then blinked before looking over at him, "Notes did you say?"

When he nodded his head, Hermione seemed to think it over. "Well, I suppose you could use them…" Fixing him a serious look she added, "But I'll be having a look at that book later."

"Like I could stop you anyway."

"Okay, now hush. I'm trying to win the potion for the both of us," she said, returning her entire focus to the task in front of her.

He smiled at that, and momentarily brushed his hand over hers. It got the reaction he was hoping for, as Hermione's face had the smallest of blushes.

The notes proved useful… in fact, extremely useful. It made the seemingly impossible easy to make. He was the first done, and the only person's looking remotely like his, was Hermione.

The Professor seemed very impressed anyway and glanced between both of their potions, before performing a test. "Well done! I must say, while both your potions are of high quality, Mr Potter's is perfect."

Hermione seemed surprised by the announcement but was smiling genuinely at him nonetheless. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd use the Felix Felicis, but he too was going to use it for the both of them.

After class, Slughorn cornered Harry and Hermione.

"Now in all my years, I have only seen a few students able to create such high quality of the Draught within an hour. It's simply splendid, splendid!" He paused for what seemed like dramatic effect, "So regarding that, I'd like to invite both you, Mr Potter and… Miss Granger, was it? You're not related to Hector Dagworth-Granger by any chance?"

"Not that I know of Professor, I'm Muggleborn you see."

Slughorn's face turned up in a reminiscent smile. "One of my best students was Muggleborn," he began looking back at Harry. "It was, in fact, your mother, Lily Evans."

Harry always found it interesting to learn about his parents from others, but he regarded McGonagall's words, and wondered if this was a ploy for being 'collected.'

The Professor gave a small shake of his head, "Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. I'd like to invite you both to the Slug Club."

"The Slug Club?" asked Harry sceptically.

"Oh, you're missing out, Mr Potter. Your Mother, Lily, always attended my club with great enthusiasm," said Slughorn enthusiastically, maybe even desperately.

He shared a look with Hermione and replied, "Uh yeah, we can come occasionally. But we're quite busy with our studies and preparing for…" He gave the professor a look, conveying what he meant.

Slughorn's eyes grew in fear and he replied, "Yes, yes. I completely understand. Uh, come along... whenever! I—I've got loads of stories to tell and people for you to meet," he eventually finished with a smile.

The Professor then quickly fled from them, causing Harry to share a wary look with Hermione.

After leaving the classroom, Hermione regarded him carefully. "So you made a perfect potion following someone else's notes?" When she received confirmation, she held out her hand. "Well, I'll need to have a look at that book right now."

"I thought you were annoyed at the book's state of wear," he replied with a smirk.

"You say this like magic can't mend books." Narrowing her eyes at him she added, "That is… unless it's been drenched in dark magic…"

His mouth turned upwards as he replied, "I assure you, it isn't… at least I think so." Hermione's hand opened and closed in a gesture of 'give,' so, with a dramatic sigh and a roll of his eyes, he handed it over, to which Hermione practically snatched it.

"Oi, no need to be so aggressive."

She simply replied with a small 'hmph.'

With the conversation at an end, Harry set his eyes back to the corridor. It wasn't long before he noticed a familiar redhead leaning lazily on the corridor wall, although it looked like the redhead was looking for someone.

When Ron's eye's lit up in recognition, Harry said cautiously, "Ron?"

That seemed to grab Hermione's attention, who had been glancing through the potions book as they walked. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at Ron with an almost disdainful expression.

Harry couldn't blame Hermione, not after Ron's disrespectful and abhorrent behaviour on the Hogwarts Express. He doubted Hermione even had a single positive thought of Ron.

Even he couldn't think of anything positive of Ron at that moment in time. More than enough times Ron had broken his trust and respect, and frankly, he was sick of it. Still, he supposed that he should at least hear his first friend out.

Hell, maybe he'll apologise for once, he thought, before mentally snorting at such a ridiculous notion.

"Uh—hey, Harry," said Ron with some nervousness. "Hermione," he added in a mumble.

"What?" demanded Hermione, a bit too forcefully.

Harry put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and conveyed a look to her. She gave an unsure look, and eventually a small nod. He didn't even realise that his hand stayed on Hermione's shoulder… and the gesture wasn't missed by Ron.

Harry's eyes followed Ron's and when he spotted what was being looked at, he tightened his grip on Hermione ever so slightly.

To his surprise, Ron said nothing, although Harry noticed that the redhead's face turned slightly red.

Maybe the idea that their friendship was on the last threads was working its way through the redhead's mind, and he knew any rash decisions could be the end. Or perhaps he had learnt of what they did regarding Dolohov and didn't want to upset them in any way, in fear of retribution. Although the former was clearly the more accurate answer. They hadn't left any evidence, and even if they did why would Ron be the first to find out?

"Is there something you need, Ron?" asked Harry.

Weasley's face fell, "Can't I just talk to my best friend?" And motioned to an unused classroom.

"Sure…" he replied suspiciously and the three of them went in. Harry hadn't missed the fact that Ron hadn't used a plural, even though Hermione was with them.

"Ah sheesh, well Harry," Ron ran his fingers through his hair.

Is he really nervous? What does he think I'll snap his neck or something? The only time he's this nervous is when he's around girls… well exempting Hermione, of course. Wait, is that what this is about?

"I'll get to the point. Why on earth are you acting so bloody cold to me? I'm your best friend," said Ron.

"Does that question really need answering?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Yes!" Exclaimed Ron, thoroughly confused.

Harry looked at him with a deadpan expression, "Well, if you really ought to know, I'm furious about what you said about Hermione—"

Ron didn't even give him a chance to finish, for his anger escaped any coherent thought. "That's the reason?! We've been best friends since the first day of school! And now you're ignoring me over—over nothing!" He complained.

Nothing!?

"It wasn't nothing, mate," replied Harry coldly, his voice so devoid of emotion he almost shivered at his own delivery. "If you can't already tell, I'm not in a good mood with you, and frankly I don't want to be around you. I'm not going to forgive you with a click of my fingers. You went too far."

"You know I didn't mean those things!" he yelled back. He glanced at Hermione, "And Hermione knows that too."

Hermione scoffed, "And how exactly do you know what what I think Ronald?" she snapped, causing the redhead to jolt in his spot. "Or did you forget you aren't a mind reader. Like you forgot I was a girl?"

"I—I didn't!" stammered Ron, his face growing red. Harry only knew it was a matter of time before he exploded in anger. It would take just one more push…

"Well then stop acting like a jealous git. Is it wrong for Harry to spend his time with me?" she asked.

"We—well no, but… actually, yes it is! The only reason you're friends with Harry is because of me. If it wasn't for me you would've died in the bathroom!" He blurted out.

"Wasn't for you?" said Hermione slowly and sarcastically.

"I dropped the club on the troll!"

"Yes, that's true…" she said thoughtfully. "Although—Didn't you only come because Harry dragged you? And you hesitated before you did anything… and when you did do something, it was using the correct pronunciation of a spell you ridiculed me about. Need I remind you that was the reason I was in the bathroom in the first place?"

Harry couldn't help himself, he chuckled, "She does have a point mate."

Ron scoffed, disbelieving his situation, that his two friends were teaming up against him. "Of course Harry fucking Potter takes her side. Ditches his best friend whenever he feels like it."

"Don't talk about Harry like that, you git," snapped Hermione with her finger poking the redhead's chest forcefully.

"It all comes down to him doesn't it?" Retorted Ron sarcastically. "Harry this, Harry that. Oh, look how useless Ron is, look how amazing the scarred cunt is. I can't believe that either of you are my friends."

"I guess you never really were my best friend then," said Harry.

"No. Obviously not, not when you throw it all away for a slag!"

He didn't hesitate, not for a second and his hand connected with Ron's face full force. There would definitely be a bruise left behind.

"You do not get to say anything like that about her, ever," he said venomously, his eyes glaring at Ron's with a dark green glow. Before his hand reconnected.

Ron's groans of pain filled the room. The situation was almost similar to Dolohov's in a way, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

As his hand connected with Ron for the fourth time, he jolted in his spot when he felt a sting on his backside.

He turned to look at Hermione who had a slight smirk and her wand pointed lazily at him. She rose her eyebrow in a message that said, 'You should probably stop.' Although she didn't seem to disapprove of his actions.

Ron was still writhing on the ground from the multiple punches Harry had given him, so hadn't seen the exchange.

When Ron finally managed to gather himself he shouted, "What the fuck, Harry!" He snapped his head to Hermione. "Why didn't you do anything? You just saw what he did."

Hermione didn't seem to want to reveal that she was the reason Harry had stopped. "I did see what he did. And I don't care, Ronald. Just leave us alone."

The redhead gaped at her response, betrayal written across his face. After a few moments, he managed to start moving towards the exit.

"You should probably see Pomfrey," commented Harry as an afterthought.

Ron stopped at the door and looked at him, "Yeah? And tell her what?" He sighed. "Bloody hell, Harry. I hope you can keep that anger under control… I dread to think about what you will do to others. We don't need another Dark Lord in our midst…"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so simply stayed quiet as Ron left the room.

The only thing Harry felt at that moment was relief. It was an odd feeling, regarding the circumstances, but he supposed he had more built-up anger and resentment to Ron than he first believed.

"Thank you," whispered Hermione, coming up to him with a brief hug.

"Are you all right?" He asked with concern.

She gave a small smile. "I'm okay. I've learnt to not take what he says to heart. Especially when you're there to defend me, not that I can't handle him myself... What about you? I know you were really close to Ron."

He shook his head. "Ron and I were good friends, sure. But I never had as close a friendship with him, as I do with you. There are things I would only ever tell you about. Ron isn't the most… understanding type of person. I don't regret what I just said and did to him, he got what he deserved."

Harry didn't know how to describe her face; but, her subtle smirk and twinkling eyes conveyed that she enjoyed what he did. He supposed he couldn't blame her, while he himself hadn't felt much of anything, besides relief, Hermione had practically had one of her childhood bullies punished.

How did he feel about that? He'd just lost one of his only friends almost for certain, but Hermione was seemingly satisfied. Was that a worthy trade-off? Lose a friend, and become even closer to his girlfriend... if such a thing was possible.

Questions, questions, questions. They were quickly becoming a more common occurrence, when had he ever questioned himself so much before?

Well, I better get some definitive answers then, he thought.

"Did you enjoy watching that?" he questioned, but without accusation.

Her expression turned serious and she tilted her head. "What if I did?" She said softly with a quirked brow.

"I'm looking for an answer," he replied, seriously.

Hermione smirked, before licking her lips languidly, taking a moment to answer. "Yes," she finally whispered, moving so close he could feel her warm breath against his face. "Is that a problem?"

Harry couldn't help himself, his lips found their way to hers. He didn't know why this darkness of hers was so alluring, but he absolutely loved it. Perhaps it was the loss of everyone but Hermione or the simple fact he now only really cared about her. But her darkness was comforting, inviting and desireful, complementing his own.

Her lips, soft and pleasantly moist, were melding with his tenderly, allowing him to revel in the sensations before their kisses became hungrier and more passionate. It wasn't long before things became more and more heated.

Eventually, they separated, albeit reluctantly.

Hermione flashed him a warm smile before she gave his hand a squeeze and the two left the unused classroom.

The Golden Trio was no more… but now there was a duo, the likes of which would shake the world.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts prided himself on being able to understand other people and have all sorts of insights on how to best influence their ways. But he had little insight on the enigma of Hermione Granger.

It had been two weeks since the start of term, and even now, while he was patiently waiting for Harry to come to his office, he couldn't stop musing on the Muggleborn who had acted downright unusually to him during the summer. Which had drawn more attention to him than Harry's little outburst, the latter, admittedly he should've seen coming.

The girl who had followed his orders to not send any mail to Harry the summer before fifth-year, was still there… but also not. A protectiveness had risen in her the likes of which he hadn't seen before. There was no way Harry could've left Privet Drive without her help. He had mulled over what could have been the cause for his 'escape,' but besides putting the blame on her, he had absolutely no idea.

And it annoyed him. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was annoyed at a 16-year-old witch. He didn't get angry at many things, the only recent thing was the collapse of his master plan. But the fact that he had been outsmarted by such a young and inexperienced teenage witch, irked him to his core.

He had spent literal years putting everything in place for the destruction of Voldemort. From the moment he had left Harry at the Dursleys to the strategic moment of telling Harry about the prophecy. But it had all backfired. Gone—disappeared—all over one summer.

How could things have gone so wrong?

Was I wrong to tell him about the prophecy? Leave him for such a long time with the Dursleys? Did I not make him dependent enough?

Did he have to make friends with the girl?

She was a problem, a nuisance, an unpredictable variable that had been messing with his plans for years

But he couldn't do anything to her. She wasn't guilty of anything, or at least anything he could prove. And if he took her prefect badge away it would raise questions with Minerva which he'd rather not answer.

And Harry. That was another thing, the protectiveness and elusiveness of Hermione, wasn't limited to her, but also extended to him. The two were now practically attached at the hip. Wherever you saw one, you almost always saw the other. And it was disconcerting. Very disconcerting...

He had heard the news of the loud argument between the Golden Trio on the Hogwarts Express, and it seemed evident that the Golden Trio was no more. For he had not spotted Ronald sitting near them since shortly after the term began.

So, out of curiosity, he had taken the first couple of weeks of school to simply observe. Observe the two, and how they interacted, which, of course, meant that he utilised the various portraits around the school. Was it unethical? Perhaps, but niceties were an unnecessary luxury, the only thing that mattered was defeating Tom. And observing them, with some help, seemed perfectly legitimate to the Headmaster.

Unfortunately for Dumbledore, his attempted espionage hadn't brought the answers he was looking for.

They barely talked to each other in the classroom, corridors or even in the Great Hall. All places in which he'd be able to listen in. Instead, it seemed as if they were aware of his methods. He had even tried a little subtle Legilimency on Miss Granger, but had unexpectedly been stalled by her mental shields. He only hoped she hadn't noticed the intrusion.

So, while they didn't seem to communicate much to each other in public, he suspected they conversed a lot more in the Gryffindor Common Room. He had thought about recruiting a 'spy' to listen in on them, but presumed the two would notice such things, so he instead had opted to simply muse about what they were getting up to.

They're clearly trying to keep secrets from me, and I've noticed that both of them are now constantly in the library. Not even Quidditch seems to interest Harry anymore… I can only hope his mind is focused on something else… well… liberating.

Harry deserved at least something resembling happiness before his time would come. The poor boy didn't deserve to die to defeat the Dark Lord, but sacrifices have to be made.

But even Dumbledore had to admit all the signs were pointing towards something else… something more sinister. Sure, he had kept numerous secrets from Harry, but it wasn't a double-edged sword in and of itself. Those two keeping secrets only raised alarms… and a lot at that.

Faintly he heard the Gargoyle statue moving aside, and heard footsteps ascending the stairs… but there seemed to be two sets of feet, instead of one…

He sighed to himself. It seemed like Harry was already defying his orders.

Why can't he just do what I want, when I want? Is that too much to ask for an old man?

"Enter," he said, after receiving a knock on the door.

Dumbledore kept his look regal, as he gazed at the two students who went to sit in front of him. He had specifically asked for Harry to come to his office alone. Yet clearly his order—no, request, he corrected himself—had been ignored. And not only that, but the bushy-haired brunette was silently glaring daggers at him. As to exactly what reasons were, the elderly Headmaster hadn't the faintest clue. He had some ideas, but couldn't pinpoint the reason why.

They were indeed sitting on two separate chairs but he knew for a fact that their chairs had moved from their original position. It was almost like they were magnets, needing to be with one another. He wondered how such a thing could've happened over a few short months.

Perhaps Miss Granger is manipulating Harry… he thought absentmindedly to himself. No, no, no. That's impossible—she's firmer in the light than even Harry himself… but there must be something.

He swore inside his mind in frustration. The curse from the Gaunt Ring had done something to his clarity. Some days he could tell everything and anything, other times he was barely capable of keeping up with anything besides the obvious. And at the moment he seemed to be somewhere in the middle.

Even now, as they sat in front of him in silence, they were rapidly sharing information with one another and on such a scale of familiarity, he wondered how he had never noticed this before. Obviously he and the portraits hadn't been meticulous enough in their observance as he had thought. Rumours were circulating that the two were a couple, but as far as Dumbledore knew, they were just that—rumours.

"Harry," he began calmly. "I was under the impression that you were to meet me here alone," he said with a twinkle of a smile. The Headmaster glanced over at Hermione, "I don't mean to be rude, Miss Granger, but it's a private matter."

Hermione gave him an annoyed look in response, but said nothing. Dumbledore carefully directed his gaze at Harry, but he too seemed unimpressed.

"As I said during summer, Headmaster, you may call me by my last name, and that alone." He then added with a quirk of a brow, "You're a professor, surely it's a breach of professionalism to only call me by my first name… some would think you show…" he paused, pretending to think over his next word, "Favouritism..."

Holding in a sigh, he simply frowned at the boy in front of him. Yes, that's all Harry is a boy… he possesses no true danger to anyone… he must make the right choice. "My apologies, Mr Potter. But as I said—"

"Forgiven, headmaster," interrupted Harry with a smirk.

Excuse me? Thought Dumbledore momentarily confused. He's acting like a—

Hermione interrupted his train of thought, and in a cold tone said, "And Headmaster, I am here at Harry's request." The way in which she said his title was almost mocking. Her eyes narrowed as she continued, "Where he goes, I go."

"If she's not allowed to stay here, Dumbledore, we'll both be taking our leave," informed Harry with an expectant look on his face.

While things hadn't played out exactly as he imagined, the Headmaster had suspected that things might've gone this way, and prepared appropriately.

Smiling at Harry he said, "Mr Potter, I called this meeting of the utmost importance… it is in regards to…" Dumbledore glanced at Hermione. "The thing we discussed last year."

The raven-haired wizard crossed his arms and with a raised eyebrow replied, "You mean the prophecy?"

The Headmaster flinched at his disregard for secrecy.

"Oh don't worry, I've already told Hermione everything. But don't worry, only her." and shot him a smug smile.

Dumbledore had hoped that Harry would have taken the burden entirely on himself, and himself alone. Not telling anyone else of what the prophecy entailed. It was entirely why he had intended for him to stay alone at the Dursleys, giving him the notion that he had to do anything and everything to protect his friends.

The elderly wizard made a split-second decision and decided it was more trouble than it was worth to separate them. Perhaps I can incorporate both of them into my master plan… yes… yes, that's what I'll do.

Frowning at 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' he replied, "Very well, Mr Potter. You may stay Miss Granger. But nothing leaves this room, is that understood?"

They nodded their heads in agreement, but that was only after they shared a look with each other.

Internally the Headmaster sighed to himself again, all was not well.

"That's it?" questioned Harry after they viewed the memory of Riddle's childhood.

Their 'lesson' with Dumbledore had only brought up more questions than answers, but at least the origins of Lord Voldemort were revealed to them, although it was odd that this information had been kept from them for so long. They had known that Riddle's childhood must not have been a… pleasant one, but the fact that it shared some serious similarities to Harry's raised some massive red flags.

But while Harry and Riddle shared similar childhoods, there were stark differences between their personalities, and that's what mattered in Hermione's opinion. Besides, no matter the final outcome of the war, Hermione knew she'd be beside Harry's side, wherever that may be.

It had been particularly disturbing to learn the immense power a love potion could have on a person, since it was how Voldemort was conceived. The fact that Tom Riddle Senior left Merope after being rid of the effects of the potion only showed that it took out all sense of free will, and could be used in all sorts of nefarious ways. They agreed that if they ever got the chance, they'd tell the Weasley twins of this new development.

But, it had scarcely taken any time to view the memory, and Dumbledore wanted to postpone more till a later date. Just what is the old man playing at?

Dumbledore took a second before replying, "Har—Mr Potter, I will reveal more memories at a later time. There is much time in the year, and I don't want to overwhelm you with too much information."

"Overwhelm me?"

"Yes…" replied Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "You need time to process it."

"Headmaster I must protest," said Hermione.

The elderly wizard looked curiously at the witch, with an almost amused expression. "And on what grounds must you protest, Miss Granger?"

"That of logic, sir," she retorted, and the way Dumbledore subsequently flinched made Harry wonder if the Headmaster felt mentally slapped by his girlfriend. "We all know that Voldemort could make a move anytime, and yet you're worried about 'overwhelming' Harry with information?" Hermione let out a loud snort. "That's stupid. Anything could happen before you finally decide to share more, the more and quicker we know about Voldemort, the better. If you suddenly die tomorrow what are we supposed to do, if we're lacking important information?"

Dumbledore gave them a reassuring smile, "You shouldn't worry, Miss Granger. The defences and professors here make Hogwarts the safest place in Britain. And if something does indeed happen to me, I have a contingency plan in place."

"You still haven't answered why you won't share more," said Harry.

"Because such information is extremely disturbing. It wouldn't be safe to share it with you right at this moment," replied the old man calmly.

"Well Dumbledore, I think you're just delaying on purpose. Wanting to drag out my dependency on you, making me spend more and more time waiting for answers. Am I wrong?"

It seemed like he hit the right spot because Dumbledore stumbled over his next words, "Harry—Mr Potter, I wo—would never." The Professor paused and looked off into the distance for a few moments, before turning back. "If you're really sure, I'll share another memory, and the most important one."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "The most important one? And why was this not shared first?"

"I have my reasons," replied the Headmaster absently, as he went to retrieve the memory.

Horcruxes. Voldemort learnt how to become immortal through the use of splitting his soul… and Slughorn played some role in it.

"Just how many of these Horcruxes are there?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore seemed reluctant to answer, but seemingly honestly, replied, "I don't know for certain, as you can see Horace has manipulated the memory. But I know that two have already been destroyed."

"Two? Destroyed?" questioned Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Tom Riddle's diary, the one Mr Potter destroyed in second-year, and the Gaunt Ring, which I found and destroyed myself."

Hermione motioned to his arm, "That's how your arm was injured, no? The ring caused that."

Dumbledore seemed merely impressed by her deduction. "How perceptive of you. But yes, you're right. The ring was protected by strong enchantments, which resulted in a deadly curse. Severus managed to stop the spread, but it's only a matter of time."

"You're dying?" asked Harry, his voice devoid of concern.

"Yes, Mr Potter, which is why it's imperative you listen to my orders when I ask them. Or the entirety of wizarding Britain may fall to Riddle."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You knew the Diary was a Horcrux back in second-year and went out hunting for another, without informing me?"

"I couldn't be—"

"You keep too many secrets, old man," interrupted Harry coldly. "We could've worked together if you had just told me from the start. But I'm not going to be working with some manipulative old goat, who is still keeping secrets from me."

"Manipulative old goat?" Repeated Dumbledore with humour.

"Yes, Dumbledore, you're manipulative. Don't think that I haven't realised how you've been manipulating me over the years. Or shall I list all the times I can recall?"

For the first time, Harry could ever see anger rise in Dumbledore. "I've done what is necessary to stop another Dark Lord. You stand no chance of defeating Riddle without me, Harry. You're at my school, in my office, and I've protected you ever since you were born. Are you not grateful for being able to leave the Dursleys nine months of the year?"

Harry only chuckled in response, "And there it is Dumbledore. Once again you admit that you had to send me back to that place. From what I saw at Grimmauld place, and the Fidelius Charm, such defences seem more than adequate over whatever blood protections might lay over Privet Drive."

"Sending you back to Privet Drive was not only necessary for your safety, but that of your family as well."

"Family?" exclaimed Harry. "Do you even listen to yourself, Dumbledore? You know how they've treated me over the years, how they despise wizarding kind. And yet you call them my family?" Harry let out a scoff. "And who cares if they're safe?"

The Headmaster looked disappointed as he said his next words. "They're still your relatives," he said lamely.

"If the Black family is anything to go by, it shows that blood is something you're born with, not chosen. Bellatrix killed Sirius, her cousin, and where were you?" Harry sighed and felt Hermione give his hand a squeeze. He was getting too riled up, but Hermione's mere presence was enough to calm him down.

Dumbledore's expression was what Harry could only describe as thoughtful. The Headmaster didn't even seem the least bit affected.

Harry slowly said, "Staying quiet? Fine. Then tell me this Dumbledore, were you not responsible for organising the deaths of my parents as part of your plan for following the stupid prophecy?"

Dumbledore's wand came up instantly, but Harry and Hermione were just as quick with theirs in defence. He wouldn't make the first move, but if Dumbledore cast a spell at them, he wouldn't hesitate in retaliating, and he doubted neither would Hermione.

It took the Headmaster a few seconds to realise what he had just done before he sighed and lowered his wand. "My apologies, Mr Potter and Miss Granger. I seem to be getting a bit senile in my old age." And chuckled at his own statement.

You got that right, thought Harry.

The two only glowered at him in response, before, slowly and without blinking, lowering their wands.

"Now as to answer your question, I did not orchestrate the deaths of James and Lily Potter. And I'm very disappointed to know Harry, that you would think that of me."

His answer seemed honest enough, but it hadn't changed what Harry thought of him. "You keep saying that you're disappointed sir, and frankly it's getting annoying. You have been keeping secrets from me, ones which I most definitely should've known about. So I don't respect you any longer, meaning, I don't give a fuck about how disappointed you are in me."

Before Dumbledore had a chance to splutter out some excuse, Harry continued. "Sir, you're either on my side or not. I'm not a tool you can use for whatever purposes you deem fit, I'll be doing what's best for myself and Hermione."

"You need to see the bigger picture Mr Potter, Voldemort concerns all of Wizarding Britain, and he needs to be stopped. And you need me to defeat him. I know it and you know it," said Dumbledore in a less than friendly tone.

Harry scoffed in response, "I know no such thing. You think you know what's best?"

"I do know what's best, you only need to follow my orders like everyone else," said the Headmaster.

"Blind loyalty?" Quipped Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "No. Loyalty is earned, and you deserve none, especially after the revelation of the Horcruxes. So why on earth should we trust you?"

"You believe in free will, don't you, sir?" Asked Harry. "Well then let me tell you now. I choose not to have your assistance, your protection, or whatever your stupid plan is. I know there's a prophecy saying that I'm destined to defeat Voldemort, but I don't believe in such things. Get your own pawn. I'm done, Hermione's done…" and in a cold tone added, "We're done."

After a minute of silence, Dumbledore gave an uncharismatic smirk and replied, "If you think that's what best, Harry." He smiled, "You and Miss Granger are free to go."

Probably thinks we'll come running back to him later. If that's what he thinks, let him, thought Harry.

As they went to leave Harry said, "Thank you, Headmaster. We'll be seeing you."

The Headmaster looked up in confusion, but they were already gone.

Author's Note: I found there little reason to write useless filler of the memories, as we all know what happened in them, so that's why I've skipped that.

I had originally intended to add some more scenes to this chapter, but it got quite lengthy as is, and I wanted to get a long and overdue update out.