HP: Fairborn Adventures

August 10th, 1976

"I promise I can explain."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Marlene seized the offered hand, gripping perhaps a tad more tightly than necessary: "I know you can. You always have explanations, Harry. Still, that doesn't mean I won't be angry with you."

He sighed as they joined the mob of shoppers that were still fleeing the scene: "Not here. Let's get back to the apparition point. I'll explain everything at Potter Manor. Just have your wand ready, please."

Harry pulled her hand and led her down the cobblestone road with large steps. Marlene kept her wand in her palm, noticing that Harry had placed his own away. Instead, he seemed to carry some invisible item in the hand which wasn't holding her own. 'He better have a good explanation.'

For some reason, Harry was unnaturally tense. His eyes kept darting up and down the alley, taking in everyone around him. Was he searching for threats? Her boyfriend was usually rather calm and confident. She had never seen him this stressed. They reached the end of the alley, where the soft snaps around them indicated that people were apparating away. Marlene's grip instinctively tightened a bit more just before the world swirled past her.

"Let's get inside." Harry hurried over to Potter Manor and tapped his thin, pale wand against the large gate. Even to this day, four weeks after Harry told her about the true nature of his wand, Marlene still struggled to accept the fact that her boyfriend was wielding the most powerful wand ever created. The Elder Wand.

They heard the faint voices of Lady Potter and perhaps an elf from the kitchen, but Harry led her straight to his room. He locked the door, murmuring several different incantations under his breath after she entered. The stress and anxiety fell from him like a mask the moment they were alone. Marlene watched him as he walked over to his large desk and placed whatever invisible item he had been carrying next to the thick ancient tome she noticed the last few times she'd been here. 'It still looked old enough to fall apart after the slightest touch.'

Her boyfriend tapped the invisible item with the tip of his wand and Marlene frowned when a small wooden box materialized out of thin air.

"That's the box Bellatrix Lestrange was carrying earlier in the alley." She walked up next to him to the desk: "Morgana's saggy tits, Harry, I don't even want to know how many Aurors have been called to the Alley after your little stunt with that smoke! And all of it for just a wooden box?! Is this some stupid prank?!"

"You have no idea how important this is. But you will soon." Harry's voice was almost a cold hiss. He had never addressed her like this before. His eyes were firmly trained on the wooden box.

"Alohomora!"

It might have just been a simple unlocking charm, but Marlene could literally feel the power radiating from Harry, as he trained the Elder Wand on the box. 'What the hell could be in that box that is so important to him?' She watched as Harry opened the lid with shaking hands until it was far enough extended to peek inside.

A small, golden cup lay on red silk. A badger was engraved into the gold, staring up at them. Two elegant handles flanked the cup, one on each side. 'It was beautiful'

Harry's breath hitched as he picked it up with utmost care. His fingers were still trembling ever so slightly. He held it with one hand above his eyes while waving the Elder Wand in an intrinsic pattern and murmuring in a foreign language. Suddenly, he exhaled deeply and slumped into his chair: "I've got it." A large smile spread over his face.

"You are deeply satisfied with stealing an admittedly somewhat pretty cup from one of the most dangerous families in the country?" Marlene huffed, barely able to control her temper now: "You promised me answers, Harry! What the hell is going on?!"

"The badger." Harry gestured for the emblem: "This cup once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff."

Marlene's eyes flickered between her boyfriend's green orbs and the small engraving: "You are not joking..."

Harry shook his head ever so slowly. 'Of course, he wasn't joking.' Harry never joked about something so serious.

"This is a relic from one of the Founders?" Marlene felt her own excitement surge through her body like an unstoppable tide: "I have read about it. It's supposed to have all sorts of magical features. They say it was embedded with phoenix tears and has unimaginable healing qualities. Apparently, the muggles fought countless wars over this cup, claiming it to be some Holy Grail and a relic from their Christian god."

Harry chuckled next to her: "Whatever it might have been capable of, it undoubtedly lost its powers after what was done to it."

"What do you mean done to it?" Marlene huffed: "Besides, why did the Lestranges have it? They are as far from being able to claim ancestry from Helga Hufflepuff as a common muggle."

"It was given to them by someone else for safekeeping," Harry explained while getting up from his chair and walking over to his leathery bag, which he had placed next to his bed. He skimmed through it until he must have found what he came looking for. Then he returned to Marlene with a small vial.

He took both her hands in his own and regarded her with an almost penetrating look: "What I am about to tell you must never be shared with anyone else, do you understand? If this knowledge somehow spreads, it will make you a target for a very dangerous man. And he will not stop until said knowledge is buried with you."

A shiver went down her spine. This was more serious than she thought. Marlene gulped heavily: "There is only one man you talk about like this, Harry, the one who murdered your parents... What does he have to do with this cup? How did he find it? Why did he give it to the Lestranges?"

Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed: "You are right, of course. Voldemort..." Marlene forced herself not to twitch at his name: "... gave this cup to the Lestranges so they could place it in their Vault, deep underneath Gringotts."

"So that's why you attacked them." Marlene frowned: "It would be almost impossible to obtain it once it has been stored with the Goblins."

"Exactly." Harry nodded: "I had an inclination, so I gave it a try before it was too late."

"If this is so important to him, why would You-Kno… Voldemort want to place the cup at Gringotts and not keep it with him at all times?"

Harry took a few seconds before answering. His eyes kept darting over to the cup in the box: "He knows that it is not beneficial for him to keep this cup too close to himself. Due to its nature, it has to be stored in a different place. Gringotts is one of the safest locations in all of Britain, with the exception of Hogwarts..." His lips curled into a small smile: "There is hardly a better place to keep something secure and hidden from the world."

Marlene tried to process everything that has been shared with her so far. She leaned over the box and carefully picked up the cup. She noticed how Harry observed her with an unreadable look.

She turned the item in her fingers: "I get that it is an incredibly rare magical artifact and probably invaluable. Still, it does not make sense to me. Why would a Dark Lord be interested in it, if not to somehow use it or boast around with possessing it?"

Harry bit his bottom lip. It was obvious that he struggled to find the right words for her. His voice changed into a whisper: "But he did use it. You are not just holding some cup, created by a Founder over a millennia ago, Marlene. You are holding a fragment of Voldemort's soul."

'What?' It took a second for the realization to hit. Then, her eyes widened upon fully processing Harry's last statement and she dropped the cup with a small shriek. Luckily, his hand seized it mid-fall. Thank Morgana for those seeker reflexes.

Marlene shook her head in utter disgust as Harry tried to place it back in her hand: "Touch it." He whispered and cupped her fingers with his own before taking hold of the handle: "Feel it and listen to it."

Marlene shivered while slowly bringing the cup to her ear. Her breath hitched and the world went silent around her. The only thing left was the steady beating of her own heart and the faintest mixture between a whisper and a strange hissing sound that seemed to be coming from deep within the cup.

Harry lowered the cup from her ear down to her heart and pressed it against her chest: "What do you feel, Marlene? Try to describe it for me..."

A frostiness swept over her in small ripples from the point where the cold metal connected with her body. It felt foreign, evasive and the complete opposite of Harry's comforting, warming touch.

"It feels wrong." Marlene's eyes found his and she held his gaze: "There is something evil in it. I can feel it."

He nodded slowly and Marlene sighed in relief when he finally pulled it away from her chest. She immediately felt better: "This cup has been turned into a Horcrux."

"A Horcrux?" Marlene frowned. She searched her mind for the term but came to the conclusion that she had never heard it before. 'It must be incredibly dark magic then.'

"It's not a branch of magic you will stumble upon at Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted Section. At least not with Dumbledore as the Headmaster." Harry guided her over to his bed and gestured for her to sit.

"It's an ancient branch of ritualistic soul magic, inherently dark and very dangerous." Apparently, he could tell that she desired to know more about it, so he continued: "Magic is capable of a great deal. Time and time again its boundaries have pushed to new horizons. However, there is still one final threshold, which once crossed cannot be returned from. One final enemy." Harry's eyes flashed a brilliant emerald green for a split second.

"Death..." Marlene understood his reference: "But what about your Ring?" Her eyes darted low to the thick gemstone on Harry's finger: "Or the Flamels' Sorcerer's Stone?"

Harry chuckled while he shook his head: "The Ring does not protect me from death. Beedle's version of how it works is accurate to an extent. It does not call those you love back from the dead. It merely gives you a unique opportunity to talk to an imprint of their soul- not their actual self."

He continued after receiving her nod: "The Sorcerer's stone is different as well. The Elixir of Life protects you from natural causes of death. The Flamels will never die from a stroke or develop deadly cancer, no matter how long they live. However, if I level my wand at them and speak a very certain pair of words, there is nothing that stops them from being sent on the Next Great Adventure."

Marlene processed what he said for a few seconds: "Then what makes a Horcrux different?"

"In a sense, it's the opposite of the Elixir of Life." Harry explained patiently: "A Horcrux protects you from deliberate attempts on your life- not natural causes of death. By splitting the soul and placing a shard of it in an object outside your body, you can protect yourself from death. Even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged."

It was as fascinating as it was terrifying, but she was a Ravenclaw. The next question rolled from her tongue before she could stop herself: "How do you split your soul?"

Harry's eyes darkened a shade and his fingers tensed: "The soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature and magic itself." Something flickered behind his orbs: "It can be achieved by an act of evil. The supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard or witch intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to their advantage: They would encase the torn portion via a rather complex ritual."

Marlene felt deeply disgusted by what she heard. It was sickening. Even without studying any soul magic, the purity and vulnerability of the human soul was something that is being taught to any pureblood child in the magical world. Our soul, our very essence, was all that separated us from mindless creatures and actually made us human instead of an accumulation of flesh, blood, and bones. To mess with something so sacred was inherently wrong.

"He murdered someone else and by doing so ensured that he can't be killed himself." Marlene shook her head in revulsion. She still struggled to comprehend how someone could be so vile.

Harry chuckled darkly and pointed to the cup: "You don't think this is the only Horcrux he created, do you?"

Her face fell: "How many, Harry?"

"There are five that I know of right now." A shadow flickered behind his eyes: "However he has the potential to create a sixth."

"Six Horcruxes." Marlene whispered in incredulity: "So a seven-split soul... It makes sense in a very twisted way. It's the most powerfully magical number."

Her boyfriend shot her a small, proud nod.

"So that's why you're here... You search for all five and try to destroy them? To make him mortal again?" Marlene reasoned: "How do you know where to look for them?"

"Because an extraordinary wizard like Voldemort would not choose random items to harbor a fragment of his soul." Harry inclined his head: "They have to be special, in that they're either unique or have some other symbolic meaning to him."

"He was a Slytherin, claims to be a direct descendant, and is a known Parselmouth..." Marlene mused: "Something from Slytherin perhaps?"

"Very good." Harry smiled: "He indeed befouled something from Slytherin with his soul, however, I am afraid that item is out of reach for perhaps a few more years. Nevertheless, I did manage to track down two of them during the months I have been here."

"What were they?" Marlene asked in excitement. If they had three out of five Horcruxes then they were more than halfway there already.

Harry gestured for the ring on his finger: "This Ring had been in possession of Voldemort's family, the Gaunts, for generations. He too is a distant descendant from the Peverells."

"That means you are related to him." Marlene cringed.

"All wizarding families are related, Marlene." Harry rolled his eyes with a small grin: "But unlike Voldemort, I have studied the legends of my ancestry and recognized the Ring for what it truly was, a Deathly Hallow. He merely perverted it with his own soul, thinking it was nothing more than a family heirloom."

Marlene nodded her understanding: "What about the other one you destroyed?"

Harry's eyes darkened once more: "Voldemort hid it in the only place he ever called home. You might remember how I told you that besides the Great Hall's ceiling and the Room of Requirements Rowena Ravenclaw created one more magical masterpiece. Perhaps you have an idea what it could have been?"

The image of her Founder's bust in the Ravenclaw common room danced in her thoughts. A silver tiara hovered right above her head: "She was said to have enchanted a tiara, a diadem. Apparently, it enhances the wisdom of its wearer. Yet, it was said to have gone lost many centuries ago." Marlene eyed the cup speculatively: "However, if You-Kno-... Voldemort managed to find one artifact of a Founder, he might not have struggled to find another."

"You are certainly a testimony to her house." Harry kissed her forehead: "And you are right. He did eventually find it. I will tell you the entire story another time, but for now, you can rest assured that it has been destroyed."

"How do you even destroy a soul?" Marlene shot the cup with a look of disdain: "I doubt simply stomping on it would work..."

Harry snorted; a low chuckle escaped his lips. Then he pondered over her question for a few seconds: "For as long as the soul remains in your own body, it cannot be truly destroyed. Killing said person merely sends their soul on a journey to the other side of the realm."

"However, should you split your soul and place it in a container, things get a bit different. Destroying a Horcrux requires that the object containing the soul fragment be damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair. Very few methods are destructive enough for that. Fiendfyre is one of them, Basilisk Venom another."

Her eyes instantly darted over to the small vial Harry had searched for in his bag before placing it on the table: "Do I want to know how you secured a vial full of the most dangerous, rarest, and most expensive magical substance in the world?"

Harry shot her lopsided grin: "Actually, I would argue that a vial full of phoenix tears is even rarer and more expensive. At least I have never heard of one being sold, whereas for Basilisk venom one only needs to travel to some magical countries in Asia." He squeezed her hand: "Don't worry, soon I will let you in on another secret and tell you exactly how I managed to secure this very specific vial. "Trust me, it's a good story."

"Your stories are starting to get almost too good, Harry." Marlene frowned. She slowly understood how much of a target she truly became the more secrets Harry shared with her. This was dangerous: "Deathly Hallows, Dark Lord's soul fragments, rare magical artifacts, and ancient secrets... And you're in the middle of all of it..."

Her boyfriend's expression turned into a mask of discomfort and regret: "I- I am sorry. I know you did not sign up for this… Maybe I didn't think this through... Perhaps, you're right and it's bet-"

She realized what direction he was going in. "No!" Marlene spoke and took both his hands: "I will certainly not abandon the ship just because things are starting to become intense and dangerous. I was the one asking you to open up to me. I agreed to study how to protect my mind so I could keep your secrets. I might not have known how dangerous those secrets were, but that does not change anything for me."

"Things will not get easier from here..." Harry gulped heavily: "This is just the beginning to it... There is so much more that I haven't told you yet. I want to- but it's so damn difficult."

She took his hands in one of hers and squeezed them affectionately. Her other hand cupped his jaw: "Look at me, Harry." His head slowly rose until their eyes met: "I was the one crazy enough to go for the mysterious and handsome new boy..." He chuckled. "... and I will stick to my decision. From now on, I am with you, Harry. Always!"

"But I can't risk you getting hurt." There was sadness in his eyes. It spoke of loss, sorrow, and regret. Emotions no sixteen-year-old boy should be feeling to such a degree: "You will soon be in so much danger just by associating with me. If certain people find out how much you know... You are too important to me."

She placed a long finger on his lips and shook her head ever so slightly. Then, Marlene silenced him with a searing kiss and moved to straddle his lap. It was not the most reasonable tactic, but certainly an effective one. He was a teenage boy at the end of the day.

"Then we protect each other, Harry." She whispered against his lips and plastered his jaw with soft kisses: "You have been alone for so long and bottled up all these secrets. I know it must be deliberating to finally share them with someone. I can tell that the more you share with me, the happier it makes you. And I want you to continue doing so."

Harry's eyes flickered and he blinked away a single tear. His soft lips met hers once more, in a slower, more passionate kiss: "I don't think I deserve someone like you." He whispered against her neck and tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her even closer against him.

"You do, Harry. I know you do." She massaged the back of his head, trailing slow circles with her fingers through his hair: "We deserve each other."

Her heart squirmed at feeling the raw emotions he was finally emitting. The young man that was usually so composed and confident was now showing a completely different side. He too was vulnerable at times, worried about his future, and dependent on others... On her.

His lips traveled up her neck to her ear where they remained for a few seconds, slightly parted. She felt Harry's heart beating rapidly against her own chest while the familiar heat radiated from him in waves. Harry swallowed a lump and cleared his throat before parting his lips once more:

"I love you, Marlene."

August 11th, 1976

"Crucio!"

The young man plunged to the wooden floorboard in agony, screaming as if every inch of his body was sliced open by hot, sharp knives. The pale yew wand flicked once and ended the spell.

"What did you say, Rodolphus?"

The man gasped heavily and emptied the contents of his stomach, unable to speak up.

"What did he say?" The Dark Lord addressed the other two occupants of the room, barely able to control his rage. Both of them were on their knees before him.

"We- We were attacked, my Lord." The woman's gaze did not meet his eye. The Dark Lord could taste her fear in the air.

"Attacked you say? By whom?" His voice came out as a whisper, dangerously close to Parseltongue.

"We don't know, my Lord." She gulped heavily: "We did not see their faces."

"Legilimens!" Crimson red bored into violet as the Dark Lord set a connection. He brutally invaded the woman's mind, not caring the least about any possible long-term damage he might deal in the process. Her admittedly skilled occlumency shields were torn right through as the Dark Lord watched the memory for himself. He had to know.

White marble stairs glimmered in the bright sunlight ahead of him. The laughter and chatter all around them died temporarily as they headed for the building he had been most impressed by upon entering the wizarding world as a tiny, weak boy almost over 40 years ago.

His hand clung to a small wooden box. The Dark Lord could feel his servant's devotion. He could feel her pride upon being given the honor to keep one of his most valuable possessions for safekeeping. And yet, she had failed him... But how?

Suddenly he was engulfed by a thick, impenetrable dark smoke. Simultaneously, his leg gave up underneath him and he fell to the rough cobblestone road. Yet the fall was not caused by mere stumbling... A spell had been sent from within the crowd. Of that the Dark Lord was certain.

Unable to see his own hand in front of his eye, he clung to the one thing he had been tasked to protect with his life. Yet the sharp edges of the wooden box were torn from underneath his grip, mere seconds after being brought to fall. The attack was deliberate... The box had been the target from the beginning.

A piece of himself was torn from him. Its loss hurt almost as much as the physical pain during the creation of the said piece in the first place. Who dared to perform this attack on him? Who dared to rob him, Lord Voldemort, of one of his most invaluable possessions?

The Dark Lord watched as they all tried to summon the box back to them, but to no avail. The attacker, whoever it was, had either been cunning enough to immediately charm the box un-summonable, unlike his followers, or they had been long gone already. Not even setting up the most simplistic charms will be a mistake that costs them dearly. The Dark Lord would make sure of it.

He watched as they flung spell after spell into the surrounding darkness, risking exposure of their mission by even using those curses the ministry deemed unforgivable. They would soon learn who else was unforgiving when presented with failure.

He withdrew from the woman's mind in the most brutal manner possible and watched as she sagged to the floor, blood leaking from her eyes, nose, and ears.

"Crucio!" The pale yew wand flickered trice, giving each of them a taste of what it meant to fail him. They deserved to feel the pain he himself was feeling right now. Their screams echoed through the manor. If it was not for certain charms, they would undoubtedly capture the attention of the nearby filthy muggles. Yet, to the Dark Lord, it was music in his ears.

"All three of you have failed Lord Voldemort." He hissed as he ended the spell and granted them the brief delight of a small break: "For that, you will pay! But first I have another purpose for you. Each of you will capture a memory of the event. You will speak to those who have witnessed that day in the Alley and deduce if they noticed anything suspicious. Do not disappoint Lord Voldemort again, for it might be the last time."

They panted heavily. Their body spasmed with the after effect of the curse they have been held under. Each of them bowed as low as their current circumstances allowed before crawling to the door.

"Send for Avery." The Dark Lord whispered as he dismissed them: "I have important matters to discuss with him."

They left the room as quickly as their unstable limbs would carry them, leaving behind the scent of their fear and dread. He was no stranger to such smell, and yet it reminded him of a time before he became the most fearsome wizard on the planet. The smell that currently filled his nostrils was the same that occasionally plagued the orphanage when the filthy muggle children wet themselves. Unacceptable!

Yet, it did not distract the Dark Lord from the seriousness of the situation. Not a single day had passed on which his memories from the Gaunt Shack did not invade his mind at random times. It was a mystery the Dark Lord had still been unable to solve. As far as he knew, no other family could claim to be descendants from his great ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.

But then how did the unknown stranger possess the gift that flooded through the Dark Lord's veins? He must have known about its location and history, for how else could the stranger have managed to penetrate the defenses around the Gaunt Shack so deeply?

Could it have actually been the one persona said stranger claimed to be? Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four, risen from the dead?

The Dark Lord had seen much of this world during his many travels. And yet, he was not naive enough to believe that he had seen everything magic has to offer. However, resurrection from the dead after over millennia? Surely that'd been something he'd stumbled over before...

No... It can't have been Slytherin, for the man would have undoubtedly recognized the Dark Lord's ambitions and goals. Salazar would have supported him instead of weakening his protections against something as pathetic as death.

His Horcruxes...

Someone out there knew about his secret and had made it his mission to hunt them down, one by one. The Dark Lord had many enemies and yet none of them had shown the same amount of cunning or caused near as much trouble.

He cursed himself for rushing his plans to secure his remaining Horcruxes. Had he actually waited to give Bellatrix the cup for a few more years, as he had originally planned, then perhaps yesterday's events might have never occurred, and the cup was still secured.

His fingers curled around the heavy Locket around his neck while his eyes darted over the Diary in his lap. His ancestor's ring and Hufflepuff's cup might be destroyed, but in his wisdom, the Dark Lord had taken additional precautions. Three more Horcruxes were secure and unharmed. Of that, he was sure. And yet he needed to be certain of it.

It was out of question that the Diadem at Hogwarts had been found by anyone, but the Dark Lord would take no further risks. In addition, there was a second Parselmouth running around the country. That was unacceptable. He was the sole air of Slytherin and it was time to prove it once and for all. What better place to do so than the very castle his ancestor helped build?

A knock on the door interrupted his musing.

"Lord Avery, thank you for following my call." The Dark Lord inclined his head.

"I am at your service, my Lord." The man bowed deeply after entering.

"It is not your service I require, but your sons." He whispered: "Tell me, is he not about to return for his seventh and last year at Hogwarts?"

"He is, my Lord." The man gulped.

"Then he will receive an honor many will envy him for. I have chosen your son to carry out a mission for me upon his return to the castle." The Dark Lord rose from his chair and strode over to the man and held out his first anchor: "For the remainder of the summer, I want your son to write in this Diary. I have enchanted it so that it will respond to him and give him more detailed instructions upon his return. Make sure he knows that no harm shall come to it and to protect it at all costs. I would be very displeased if it fell into the wrong hands."

"I will, my Lord." The man bowed once more: "You honor our family, my Lord."

"Leave- and carry out the will of Lord Voldemort." The Dark Lord dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 'For the world will soon witness the extent of my power.'