(Book 7 FanFiction) Harry Potter: The Last Horcrux

Chapter 14: Azkaban

September melted into October without Harry even being aware of the passage of time. He felt as if he'd flipped through the pages of every book in the library and still come up with nothing on Horcruxes. He'd begun to understand Hermione's dismay that the library had let her down. How could there be nothing written about something that obviously existed?

He'd continued his Occlumency lessons with the Malfoys, but hadn't made any progress since that first lesson. While Harry's head ached during practice and even for a short time afterwards, he hadn't experienced any of the visions or flashes of Voldemort's moods as he had during his fifth year. The sessions always left him feeling tired and drained, however.

A dismal, tense mood had settled over headquarters during the past week. The number of Dark creature attacks against Muggles had increased dramatically. In fact, Mr. Weasley said he couldn't remember a time when there had been more vampire sightings within Britain. Several high-ranking Ministry officials had gone missing within a short span of time, leaving those left behind overworked and anxious. Some of the wealthier families had gone abroad, as far away from Britain as they could get.

Members of the Order were spread thin trying to clean up one mess after another, leaving headquarters virtually empty most of the time. While this allowed Harry to do his research unhindered, it also meant that no one had had the time to look for Crabbe and Goyle's fathers.

The attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns had Hermione understandably worried for her own family. Mr. Weasley had promised that her family was being watched, but she still worried. She'd got a bee in her bonnet about returning to Albania, that they'd somehow missed something there. Again, something in Harry's gut told him what they were looking for wasn't in Albania. Ginny had suggested that perhaps Voldemort hadn't spent all his time there, after all. Greece bordered a large part of Albania and maybe that was what inspired his use of the Parthenon.

Harry allowed that it was possible, but regardless, he didn't think either place held any answers for him.

Of course, Hermione wouldn't let it go and refused to accept his reasoning without a more sound explanation for his unwillingness to go back. The problem was Harry didn't have a sound reason; he just knew it. A dark, underlying part of him wondered if it had something to do with the bit of Voldemort's soul that he now knew resided within him.

He and Hermione had argued about it over breakfast, and now Harry was sitting in front of a fire in the drawing room with a large book on the Dark Arts in his lap. He wasn't really seeing the words, however. His eyes had glazed as his mind dwelled upon the fact that he was a Horcrux.

Locating and destroying the cup had been a huge victory, but it also brought him one step closer to doing what he feared he'd have to do. He couldn't talk about it with any of the others because it seemed to distress them even more than it distressed him. So, Harry was left alone to contemplate his feelings, and the toll was wearing him down.

This was how Ginny found him when she entered the drawing room and sat down next to him. He took a moment to even acknowledge her presence, and when he did, it was with a start.

"What are you thinking about that's making you frown that way?" she asked, smoothing the tense lines around his mouth with her fingers.

"I was just thinking about what we had to do next," he replied.

"You're worried," she said.

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked upwards — he could never fool her.

"A bit," he said. "Hermione wants to go back to Albania."

Ginny nodded without response. Harry had the impression she'd already heard the other side of the argument and wondered if she'd sought him out to continue Hermione's pleas.