Power, Freedom and a French Flower

A peaceful term at Hogwarts?

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Chapter 26

January 5th, 1994

Harry was back at Hogwarts after the eventful Yule holidays. On New Year's Eve, he and Sirius had briefly enjoyed the firework show before taking their leave from the ball. Sirius was enraged that Sebastian Delacour had laid his hand on Harry.

Harry himself was pretty pissed off. He was sure the man would have actually challenged him to a duel, just for dancing with his daughter. Who knows what might have happened?

Sure, Harry was a formidable duelist, but Sebastian Delacour had been the head of the French DMLE for almost ten years now and was still on active duty regularly. It was unlikely that Harry could take him down yet.

Apparently, there had been no repercussions for the Delacour patriarch for attacking Harry like that. The entire incident had probably been swept under the rug.

Everyone in the Castle was fast asleep and he needed to talk to Salazar. Deep underneath his robes, he could feel the cold metal of the Locket, the spells on it were still trying to persuade him to put it on.

Harry entered the Quarters of the Founder:

"Wake up, old man, I am back from the Yule holidays."

Salazar cursed at his heir but interestingly listened when Harry told him about the events at the New-Years-Eve ball and his dance with Delacour.

"You should not have antagonized him further Harry, I hope you did not cross any of your godfather's political plans with your actions. You can't keep making enemies, while he tries to network and spread his political influence at an event like that."

Harry nodded his understanding:

"Also, Sal, I have found something that once belonged to you. I am afraid, Riddle achieved what he had planned."

He pulled out the Locket and it almost broke his heart to see his mentor's eyes tearing up at the sight.

"Is it now, what I think it is, Harry?"

"I am sorry, Salazar. We have to destroy it, it is a Horcrux now."

Salazar just nodded sadly and Harry remembered the story, the portrait had told him: The locket had been a gift to his wife. It must cause the founder unimaginable pain to see it tainted with a foreign soul, like that.

Harry took the fang that had pierced his arm. He had placed it as a souvenir on the wall next to the portrait.

"How do I open it?" He asked the founder.

"I think you already know, Harry." The man smiled sadly and turned around. He did not want to look at it.

"Open." The word came out as a hiss as the golden doors of the locket swung wide open with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been.

The point of the fang dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.