Author's Notes:

Unexpected hiatus was unexpected. I have no excuses other than life.

Also, I give up predicting the numbers of chapters. This will end when it decides to end, I suppose.

Enjoy!

"Oh who cares what a maid wears on her face, or if she dresses herself in sackcloth or lace! The dress is just dressing, the true treat's beneath- they all look the same when they're under your sheets! Give me a maid with-"

The singing ghost cut off his song as he saw a slender, pale figure disappear around the corner. It was well past curfew, no student should be out at this hour!

"Hey! I saw you there, you curfew-breaker!" He floated towards the boy, who had stopped and turned to look at him when called. His pure white hair caught the moonlight from an open window, giving him an almost- hah- ghostly appearance. The ghost scowled and floated in front of him menacingly.

"It's well past curfew, young man, and students shouldn't be wandering the halls! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go get your Head of House." The young man blushed and ducked his head shyly.

"Excuse me, I believe there's been a mistake. I'm not a student here, mister?..."

"Ribald Rick."

"Mister Rick. I'm only visiting." The boy gave him a beaming smile, and Rick felt his anger soften despite himself- there was something in that smile that he just couldn't resist. Now that he looked closer he could see that the boy wasn't wearing a uniform, only normal dark clothes and a long black jacket.

"Oh, my mistake. Sorry for the confusion." The boy beamed, and Rick couldn't help but smile back.

"Not a problem! I'll be on my way now." The ghost nodded and waved him on, continuing his patrol down the corridor and beginning to hum another dirty song under his (metaphorical) breath.

Then he stopped short as he realized something;

The residents hadn't been warned about visitors to the castle.

He turned around to apprehend the intruder… But the corridor was empty.

"FUCK!" Even Dumbledore couldn't scold him for swearing under these circumstances.

Ryou giggled inside his soul room, sounding somewhat hysterical, as Bakura stepped their body out of the shadows and into their living room.

"I cannot believe he fell for that." The dark spirit shook his head and chuckled maliciously despite himself, pulling the tie out of their white ponytail. "Even ghosts aren't immune to a hikari's charm, it seems."

His hand hovered over his pocket, and his smile faded into a grimace as the sickly sensation of its contents washed over him anew. He shuddered as he drew out the beautiful sparkling crown, feeling its magic like a fever burning through it. A ragged, torn piece of a broken man's soul- it disgusted him.

With a hiss of distaste he dropped the tainted thing onto their side table and flopped onto the couch to stare moodily at it.

"The sooner we destroy the damned things the better. Pharaoh, I hope your damn dramatic plan is worth it." Grumbling, he dragged the blanket from the back of the couch and burrowed under it like a shield against the jewelry's malicious presence. Ryou hummed in sympathy, shielded from the broken magic within his soul room, and Bakura leaned a little more heavily on his other half than usual. Not for comfort, no, never- just because he was there and it was convenient.

He ignored Ryou's gentle laughter.

STRANGE VISITOR AT HOGWARTS: ARE YOUR CHILDREN SAFE?

WHITE-HAIRED MENACE SEEN IN LITTLE HANGLETON- INTENTIONS UNKNOWN

GRINGOTT'S ROBBED AGAIN: SECURITY SLIPPING!

"No... They can't be…"

But the newspaper headlines arranged in front of him did not lie- this time, at least.

They were after his Horcruxes.

After reading the newspaper headlines, entering his office to find the short Mage reclining in his desk chair almost didn't surprise him. Irritate him, yes, but not surprise.

Dumbledore just sighed and rubbed his temples, glad that he was alone. The Mage watched him, red eyes inscrutable, and the headmaster felt decidedly like there was an invisible chess game in play- one where he didn't know all the pieces. He hated playing blind.

"I assume your visit has a purpose, Mister…. 'Yami'?" The other man gave a small twitch of his lips at his hesitation.

"Almost nothing I do is without purpose, Headmaster. Tonight is no different." He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers absentmindedly. "What do you know about the creation of the magical artifact your race calls a Horcrux?" Dumbledore frowned, a shiver of unease running down his spine.

"They are… a vessel containing a bound portion of a human's soul, created when a wizard murders a person in cold blood. This injures the soul and allows a piece of it to be torn away." The Mage waved a dismissive hand.

"The fact that you have to resort to such a barbaric method sickens me. It's so… unrefined." He tilted his head, eyes going distant, and chuckled- as if listening to something only he could hear. He shook his head to bring himself back to the present. "In any case, though, that's correct. This Tom Riddle, who fancies himself capable of being a Mage- he has six Horcruxes." Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, he split his soul into seven pieces- though one of them has already been destroyed, leaving only five to locate…" He trailed off as Yami shook his head.

"His soul is split into eight pieces, not seven. One piece has moved to the afterlife. The rest remain here in the mortal realm- six Horcruxes, and one active piece."

"How do you know that?" A deadpan, 'don't-be-an-idiot' look. (Had the man been studying Snape?)

"I am a Mage, wizard. I feel the substance of souls as you feel the magic channeled by your wand- as well ask you how you are sure you have performed a spell!" He tched irritably. "There are six disembodied pieces of Voldemort's soul on this plane. We have obtained four, and know the location of the fifth- but the sixth concerns us. It's presence is muted, blunted; it is bound to another human soul, and is using that energy to form a link with the active soul. One of your students or professors is harboring the Horcrux… Do you know who?" Red eyes pierced him, daring him; I've given you the puzzle. Can you solve it, or will I have to step in?

A murder in cold blood… An unexpected, unplanned Horcrux that broke the pattern…

"Oh, dear Merlin no…." Head in his hands, Dumbledore collapsed into the guest chair.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Dumbledore just swore at him.

One calming cup of tea later and another cooling in his hands, the Headmaster could finally bring himself to discuss the new development.

"Harry is the seventh Horcrux."

"Harry? You thought of him immediately- has he been showing erratic behaviors recently?"

"No, but he is the only one it could be. The circumstances fit too perfectly." Yami raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm afraid I do not follow."

"Harry is… something of a celebrity among us. His family was the last that Voldemort attacked. That night, for unknown reasons, the Dark Lord was destroyed- leaving young Harry the only survivor." The man nodded in acceptance.

"Ah. That could certainly be the cause. Well, call him here and we shall take the Horcrux from him."

"Just like that? No research, no preparation- nothing?"

"Why waste time on something we don't need? It's a simple- but exhausting- problem to rectify now that know the host." Dumbledore just stared at him for a moment.

"A piece of the Dark Lord's soul, bound to a teenage wizard… is a simple problem?"

"We've dealt with worse." He could really learn to hate the Mage's smirk. "Now, the sooner we get this over with the better. Could you summon Harry here, please?" Alarm swept through the Headmaster.

"What do you plan to do?"

"We plan to separate the Horcrux from the boy, and send it on to what waits for it. If all goes well your student should not be harmed, at least not permanently." Dumbledore glared.

"Not permanently?" The Mage glared right back.

"Some exhaustion and a small amount of damage may be caused by the removal, but removing the parasite will allow the boy's soul to repair itself and be stronger than it was. We are actually in more danger than the boy, since it is likely the Horcrux will resist being separated from its host." His eyes softened a little and he sat up, his expression earnest. "I promise you, Dumbledore, I have no ill intentions towards the boy and would never raise my hand or magic against him; but if we do not remove the Horcrux, he will become incredibly unstable as he ages- imagine, for a moment, what would happen if you sewed a piece of rotting flesh to your own arm." Dumbledore couldn't help his convulsive shudder as he realized the danger to one of his favorite students. Yami nodded gravely; after a few moments of silence, the Headmaster took a shaky breath.

"I will call for him."

"Ah, Harry, very good."

Harry just blinked as the Headmaster greeted him at the door, not sure why he had been summoned in the middle of the night by a house-elf.

"What's going on, Professor?" Dumbledore's smile looked strained, and the twinkle was absent from his eyes. The Headmaster gestured towards the visitor he hadn't noticed yet as they entered the room, and Harry had to rub his eyes in disbelief- was the man actually sitting behind Dumbledore's desk, or was he imagining things?

"My acquaintance here, Mr. Yami, wanted to speak to you. It's a matter of some importance and couldn't wait, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to disturb your rest, I will certainly see about getting you excused from morning classes…"

Despite his best intentions, Harry couldn't pay attention to Dumbledore's words as well as he normally would- the strange man was just too distracting.

Really, what acquaintance of Dumbledore's dressed like a Muggle punk? Between the spiked collar, spiked hair, and studded leather wristbands the man looked like a walking rock album cover. Why was he here?...

Then bold red eyes met his.

Age. Power. Strength. Terrifying, almost otherworldly, but underneath it all…

Kindness.

He swallowed as the man stood up ("Merlin, he's tiny!") and tried to remember his manners. It was incredibly odd though to be looking down at an adult.

… Wait, what had he just said?

"I'm sorry?" The man just smiled.

"I said, Hello Harry. You may call me Yami." He waved towards the guest chair and pulled the spare out of the corner for himself. Harry fidgeted for a moment as they sat down, and the stranger just stared at him with a considering little frown- his eyes were distant, and he occasionally nodded or shook his head at strange times. Dumbledore went to sit behind his desk, watching them silently, and after a moment Harry made himself speak.

"I'm sorry, sir- but what am I here for?" His words drew the man out of his trance, blinking rapidly as he suddenly focused.

"I apologize, I was lost in my thoughts. Harry… Dumbledore tells me you have met the dark wizard Voldemort. Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true. He… He killed my parents, and I was there when he brought himself back to life." He waited for the accusations and doubt, but they never come. Yami just hummed softly, drumming his fingers together.

"I believe you, young wizard. I am here for exactly that reason." With no warning he reached out and brushed his hand over his scar, and Harry couldn't stop himself from jerking away- where the man's fingers touched a bright, burning flare followed. He clapped a hand to his scar and hissed with the pain. The visitor frowned.

"I apologize. It reacted more violently than I expected."

"What reacted?"

"This is… difficult to explain. When Voldemort attacked your family, something prevented him from killing you. Whatever this force is, it shattered his being into pieces." His fingers flicked, miming an explosion. "It seems, young one… that one of those pieces has latched onto you."

Silence.

"So… So… Ever since I was a child, I've had a piece of one of the darkest wizards in HISTORY living inside me?!"

When had he stood up? He didn't remember doing that… Dumbledore had stood as well and was saying something that should have been calming, but the world was all white noise in his ears-

"Harry."

There was a small hand on his shoulder. Chest heaving, eyes blurring with tears that he couldn't control, he wanted to throw it off- but some unknown force pulled his eyes down to meet Yami's.

"Shhh, young wizard. I know this is a shock, but we have not told you just to alarm you- I am capable of removing the offending piece. Please, sit down." He sat, stunned and unable to resist the man's calm control. The world still swam at the edges of his vision but the strange man's voice cut through the panic and shock, reaching him loud and clear against all odds.

"As I said, I can remove it. It will be painful and will likely exhaust you for a time, but we will do our best to shield you from the worst of the damage. Once it is gone, you should heal with no lasting effects. You will probably even be more stable, mentally, than you are now." One side of his mouth quirked up sardonically.

"But… Why come and remove it now? If you're right and I've had it since I was a baby, I don't recall ever seeing you around before…." Harry sat back, a little afraid, as Yami's eyes darkened with anger.

"Voldemort has attacked ones I and my friends care for, made threats on their lives and attempted to enslave them. I was not aware of his existence before he did so, and have since discovered he is too large a threat to let live. By removing this piece from you, we will be one step closer to ending his threat forever."

"Voldemort… Gone… Forever?" It seemed too good to be true. Yami reached out and took his hand.

"Yes, young one. Forever." He linked both their hands. "Do I have your permission to remove the parasite?"

"Yes… Yes, of course!" The older man bowed his head.

"Very well. Dumbledore, please make sure we are not disturbed. This is delicate work." Red eyes caught green, hypnotizing him and he couldn't look away.

"Let us begin."

It happened in only a moment; Harry was dimly aware of the world around him falling into dim, misty focus; only the man in front of him remained distinguishable, and even he turned hazy at the edges. Strange half-heard whispers filled his ears, too quiet and too loud at the same time, and he wanted to lift his hands to cover his ears- then, pure blackness shielded him and the world went silent.

"Shh, be easy child. We have you, you're safe."

The darkness (shadows, whisper something in his heart) echoed with Yami's voice. Pressure settled on his shoulders comfortingly, and he looked up to meet smiling red eyes standing behind him. But… He hadn't moved…

Another man was sitting where Yami was before. In the gloom he shone like nothing Harry had ever seen, brighter than unicorns or sunlight or even magic itself. Meeting violet eyes, he felt a tear slide down his cheek and when the man reached up to cradle his face in tiny, slender hands he leaned into them trustingly without quite knowing why. He felt like everything good in Harry's world, afternoons with the Weasleys or Dumbledore's praise- and he knows, knows down to his bones, that nothing will hurt him here. Not while this man holds him and Yami stands guard.

But something deep within him is not so comforted. It hissed, recoiled at the touch of light, and he gasped as pain flared in his head. It lasted only a second before it vanished and he was left shaking like a leaf. The man holding him frowned and slid his hand up to cover his scar; Yami laid his own over it, and Harry could dimly feel the power created by the contact of light and dark.

"Trust us." The light man whispers, and how can he not?

Their powers entwined, he felt their magic seeking inside him. It streaked hot and cold from the scar, seeking, cleansing like fire, until they find what they're seeking- a portion of himself that feels rotten even to his own dim senses. He heard their hiss of distaste, the tiny recoil, before they gathered themselves and plunged in once more.

The small rotten piece screams as they pry it free, untangling diseased tendrils from his own being, and he gets the feeling he should be in pain; all he feels is a curious numbness and detachment. When the parasite finally released its clinging hold the magic pair separated. The lighter power curled around him, sweeping like a cooling balm against the bleeding places the parasite had attached; Yami was not so benign, racing out in a clash of dark fire to destroy the remnants of the parasite. When it finally dissolved under the attack Harry felt something tight in his chest loosen with relief, and he breathed easier than he ever had before.

The two magics reunited, twining around one another with love and joy and triumph, and in a dizzying swoop the darkness faded and the room came back into nauseatingly clear focus. There is only one man sitting in the chair before him, no hands on his shoulders. Dumbledore is standing by, face pale and worried, and Harry barely had the energy to smile at the Headmaster before a more ordinary darkness clouded out his vision.

Dumbledore barely stopped himself from shaking the Mage as Harry lost consciousness and the short man sat back with a groan. About to shout and demand an explanation, he paused; there was blood trickling from the Mage's nose and his eyes were dazed and unfocused. Yami groaned softly, pressing both hands to his temples as he closed his eyes tightly in pain. Well-recognizing the signs of a migraine, Dumbledore flicked his wand to dim the lights before retrieving a therapeutic potion from his desk drawer- no need to trouble Madame Pompfrey with every little headache when he could simply keep his own supply on hand.

The Mage drank when prompted without a fuss, and it was only a few minutes before he sighed in relief as the pain faded. As soon as his eyes opened Dumbledore grabbed his shoulder demandingly.

"What happened? Did it work? Is Harry in any danger?" Yami held up a hand and laughed softly. Though still tinged with pain his eyes were full of triumph.

"It worked. There is one less piece of Voldemort's soul in this world."

Dumbledore bowed his head like a puppet with cut strings, leaning against the chair with unspeakable relief.

They sat there for a long time, reveling in their victory.

More Notes:

The 'Hikari Charm' thing... It is my headcanon that the lighter spirits have this calming aura that naturally encourages people to trust them unless they have a serious mission they can focus on or strong will to resist it. It doesn't work when they are stressed or scared or hurt, and not all people react favorably towards it.

Please forgive any typos or such... It's 4:00 in the morning and I unwisely drank a caffeinated beverage far too close to bedtime; I'm starting to crash and wanted to get this posted for my lovely readers. I'll proofread it more thoroughly at a later date.

I hope you enjoyed this latest installment, review if you feel like it!

-SS