HP: Fairborn Adventures

April 3rd, 1977

"Get me a Healer from Saint Mungo's quickly, and make sure these villagers keep their distance, lad!"

Moody barked his orders, shaking Matthew out of his temporary state of shock upon seeing the reason why they had been called to Hogsmeade Village in the early morning of what had promised to be an ordinary Saturday like any other.

'It was truly a gruesome sight...'

A young, dark-haired man was strung up from the overhang of the Three Broomsticks' roof. His hands were tied by a rope, letting him dangle freely from the wooden beam. His unrecognizable face was bloodied and bruised, making it obvious that the last hours before his death had been ones of suffering and perhaps even torture.

Evidence of that was also given by the large letters that had been carved right into his ribcage. Since the young man's robes had been removed and his pale chest exposed, the word was easily readable even from further away.

'FAILURE'

'But that was not all...'

Matthew looked up, wincing as his stomach turmoiled. High above him, looming over the entire village in a cloudy April morning's sky was a sickly greenish skull with a winding serpent lunging out of its mouth.

'The Dark Mark.'

"Yes, sir, right away!" He swallowed heavily and hurried inside the three broomsticks to the closest fireplace.

"Saint Mungo's!" Throwing a handful of green powder into the flames, Matthew dipped his head inside and called out to the other end of the connection: "We need a forensics healer at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade as soon as possible!"

Not waiting for the response, he hurried back outside and conjured a red and white striped barrier tape around the crime scene, which would hopefully be enough to keep the growing mass of spectators at bay; at least for now until support arrived from the office.

'Talking about support...'

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore approaching Moody in front of the brutally incapacitated victim. With his job finished, Matthew joined the two wizards to discuss the next steps.

Dumbledore shook his head in disappointment as he glanced up at the Dark Mark floating in the sky before his eyes caught the youthful man underneath it. His expression was one of grief and sadness. "So young..."

"I'd say good morning, Albus, but I assume it has been spoiled for all of us. Any idea who the poor lad is?" Moody barked his question.

"I'm afraid I do know his identity already." The Headmaster sighed: "Madam Rosmerta alerted me simultaneously to you when she spotted the body, fearing that it might be an upper-year student from the castle. When I checked the wards and did a quick headcount, I noticed a missing seventh-year Slytherin, Thomas Avery."

"Lord Arthur Avery's oldest son?" Matthew frowned, the boy had been a second-year student when Matthew left the school five years ago: "Now, that will cause a backlash..."

The Averys were a well-known conservative pureblood family. The murder of their oldest son will likely lead to an outcry from the traditional fraction in the Wizengamot: "Shouldn't we send for his family and ask them to identify him?"

"Aye, we will have to." Moody nodded his agreement: "There's no wand on him, so we will have to depend on the Healers and his family to make sure it's actually the Avery boy. What do you make of the message, Albus?"

"Everything points in the same direction so far, suggesting that the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort have punished him for some sort of failure." The Headmaster's eyes drifted over the various brutal injuries: "However, I think we're still missing a few pieces of the puzzle. It would be foolish to outright dismiss any other possibilities."

'It seems pretty clear though...'

"Aye, we will follow standard Auror protocol for a murder investigation in that case." Moody barked his orders "I will have a few more colleagues from the office called to cover the crime scene. An Unspeakable will help them secure any evidence we might have missed so far. Meanwhile, you'll take us up to the Castle and to the lad's dorm. The quicker we act the more evidence we might be able to gather."

"Of course, Alastor." Dumbledore nodded gravely: "I have already informed Horace that it might be one of his students. We can floo right into his office down in the dungeons."

They followed the Headmaster back inside, bypassing a team of white-robed healers who charged out of the entrance to the Three Broomsticks.

"Such a tragedy, such a tragedy..." Matthew's former potion Professor greeted them as they stepped out of a different fireplace into a very familiar office, where only a few years ago Matthew had attended the Professor's monthly gatherings and made the necessary connection to the Auror office.

"I will lead you down there straight away. I'm afraid my House will take this very badly." Slughorn finally seemed to notice Matthew: "It's good to see you again, m'boy. I merely wish it were in more pleasant circumstances."

"Likewise, Professor," Matthew murmured.

"Arthur and Elaine will be devastated about this terrible loss." The man led them down to Slytherin's common room, a place Matthew had never seen himself, as he was sorted into Ravenclaw like the majority of his family had been for generations.

"Pede Poena Claudo." Slughorn absently muttered the passing phrase, allowing them to step through the previously hidden entrance into the Snake-Pit.

Matthew looked around, curiously taking in one of the few places he had never envisioned his career as an Auror might lead him to. The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them.

"Professor?" The few students that were present in the common room, presumably about to head to breakfast, looked up in confusion at their unexpected intrusion: "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, terrible... terrible," Slughorn choked, merely shaking his head.

"What happened, sir?" They glanced from their Head of House to Headmaster and finally to the two Aurors who accompanied them.

"We are here for an official Auror investigation!" Moody's harsh voice echoed through the room: "You will all remain here for the time being and no one leaves this room without my explicit permission! Now, Professor, where is the seventh-year boy dorm?"

"It's right over here." Slughorn gestured towards a staircase leading even further down into the castle's foundation: "Follow me then."

Careful expressions and nervous whispers tracked them as they crossed the room. Slughorn led them through a long dimly lit corridor until they reached a door at the far end, which was labeled as the seventh-year boys' dorm. A small crowd of students had accumulated behind them at this point, standing on their tiptoes to watch them.

"Make sure your students stay back, Professor." Moody grumbled, glancing over his shoulder: "Don't want them messing up any potential evidence."

"Of course, of course..." Slughorn nodded and opened the door for them.

'At least the dorms don't look like dungeons as well.' Matthew glanced around, taking in the six large canopy beds and their respective wardrobe along the walls.

"What do you think you- " The moment they entered, one of the students poked his head behind the door to the bathroom: "Professor?" He frowned, his eyes twitching ever so slightly as he took in the silhouettes of Dumbledore, Moody, and Matthew: "May I ask what this is all about?"

"I'm afraid we're the bearer of tragic news." Dumbledore spoke up first: "When was the last time you've seen Thomas Avery, Mr. Wilkens?"

"Last night, around 11:00 pm." Wilkens answered instantly, glancing over to the third bed: "He said he had a few more things to take care of before heading to bed. What happened to him?"

"Did he not return last night?" Moody barked, walking over to the bed.

"I'm not sure." Wilkens hesitated for a few seconds: "When I woke up this morning his bed was empty already, so I can't really know, can I? May I finally know what is going on now, sir?"

"The body of a young man was found in the village of Hogsmeade this morning." Dumbledore explained with a sigh: "Since Mr. Avery is the only student that's unaccounted for by the wards, we are presuming it's him until his family has identified him."

"Thomas is dead?" Wilkens' jaw dropped; he looked deeply troubled.

"I'm sorry you learned it the hard way, lad, but you'll need to clear the dorm now so that we may start our investigation."

"Ye- yes of course." The Slytherin gulped heavily and moved towards the exit back to the hallway, his eyes lingering on the two Aurors for a few seconds.

"Alright, McKinnon, let's put this place upside down." Moody barked next to him as he walked over to what was presumably Avery's bed: "You go through his personal belongings while I take a look at the bed. Albus, Professor Slughorn, you may either help by searching for hidden compartments and hideouts or I will have to ask you to remain outside. "

"Horace and I are eager to help."

"Good, any questions?"

"No, sir." Matthew shook his head and went to work, starting with the lowest drawer.

'There's got to be something important here...'

One at a time, he worked himself through the storage spaces, casting a few jinxes every so often to make sure he didn't miss any undetectable spatial extension charms.

It wasn't long before he found a drawer with more personal items, including some letters, a wallet, some galleons, official documents from Hogwarts and a potential internship at the Ministry, and finally a small roll of parchment that lay on top.

Curious about the bizarre placement, Matthew unrolled the missive, his eyes widening as he took in the words.

The screams of those I have wronged haunt me in my sleep; alas, he is still not satisfied with my work. His demands swallow me like an ever-growing darkness, as the pressure on my shoulders weighs down on me heavily.

Tonight, I shall meet him; either to welcome the desired credit or be punished for the delays in his plans; I don't know what will await me, yet I have to face it nevertheless. Escaping is out of the question, for no one shall ever flee from death.

In the unfortunate case where I shall not return to the castle, this letter will serve as an explanation for those I left behind and perhaps discourage others from following my fate.

T. A. A.

'Thomas Arthur Avery.' Matthew murmured, glancing over the initials once more before turning to his superior: "Sir, you should see this!"

"What do you've got, lad?"

Matthew wordlessly handed Moody the letter, waiting as the man skimmed over it: "It points in the same direction, doesn't it, sir?"

"Aye, it sure does." Moody's eyes narrowed as they lingered on the first few sentences: "Not exactly innocent himself now, is he?"

"Did you find something already, Alastor?" The Headmaster returned to their position with Slughorn following him.

"Wasn't really hidden now, was it?" Moody growled, handing over the letter to Slughorn: "Do you recognize the handwriting by chance, sir?"

They watched in silence as Slughorn and Dumbledore simultaneously read the short letter.

"I have graded Thomas' essays in my class for over six years, this is undoubtedly his writing." The potions professor seemed close to sobbing: "Oh, my poor, poor boy. Why did you start running in the wrong circles?"

"What is it Albus?" Moody inquired when the Headmaster's eyes seemed glued to a particular spot on the letter.

Dumbledore's frown deepened: "One might mistake them for smears of ink, but I'm positive he connected the last three words in the second paragraph on purpose. If we translate them to French, 'Flee-From-Death' becomes 'Vol-de-mort'."

"Let me see that again!" Moody snatched the letter away, allowing Matthew to lean over it as well.

"Nicely caught, Albus!" The man barked in laughter: "If you weren't over a hundred years old, I'd try to persuade you to join the Aurors. Well, this does explain a whole lot already, doesn't it? Particularly when we consider the state we found him in. If he was the one attacking those children but failing to kill them, then I can't say I feel too sorry for the lad any longer..."

'So it would seem.' Matthew hummed thoughtfully. It was obvious what Avery had referred to by mentioning this 'growing pressure'. The Dark Lord being the true perpetrator behind the attacks also explained some of the messages that have been left behind on the crime scene during Matthews' previous visits to the school.

'But what about the one where he mentioned something had been stolen from him... Who steals from the Dark Lord?'

Before Matthew could ponder over the question any longer, his superior barked a few more orders: "I need to know more about what happened last night. How did Avery behave that evening, knowing that he was about to meet his master? Did he leave any further hints like this letter?"

"His roommate probably saw him last." Matthew piqued up: "Perhaps he even saw Avery composing the note. It does say that it was written the same day of the meeting after all..."

"Good! That's where we shall start then!" Moody barked: "Professor Slughorn, I need you to call back that roommate of his and ask him when exactly he had last seen Avery!"

"Yes- of course, right away." Slughorn hurried back out into the corridor and returned a few moments later with the seventh-year boy.

"What do you know about Thomas Avery's schedule last night?" Moody immediately began the interrogation: "Start from dinner."

"We had dinner together with the rest of the house in the Great Hall." The boy, Wilkens was his name, answered carefully: "We went back to the common room after that and Thomas left for his Prefect meeting perhaps an hour later."

"A Prefect meeting?" Moody inquired curiously: "Professor Slughorn, are there any Prefects outside who may have been present during the meeting?"

"I will see right away!"

A minute later the potions professor returned with a skinny greasy-haired boy, who, if Matthew wasn't mistaken, had been sorted with his sister.

"This is Severus Snape." Slughorn introduced his students, whose black eyes carefully darted over each occupant in the room, narrowing slightly when they caught sight of Matthew: "He's my sixth-year Prefect and was present during the meeting last night."

"Did you notice anything suspicious in your housemate's behavior, Mr. Snape?" Moody asked the boy: "Did he perhaps seem more cautious, irritated, or even frightened during the meeting?"

"Irritated perhaps..." The boy's lips tugged in amusement: "But only due to his pairing for the night."

"So Thomas was among those who went on rounds last night?" The Headmaster asked: "Who had Mr. Avery been assigned to, Severus?"

"Ironically he was assigned to your sister, sir." The Snape boy grinned coldly, turning to Matthew: "They started their rounds together; I have no idea what could have happened while they spent all that time wandering through the castle..."

"He was with Marlene?" Matthew asked bewildered.

Beside him, something changed in the Headmaster's body language momentarily, yet it was Moody who spoke up first: "You know that we have to ask your sister a few questions, McKinnon. Can you remain professional, or do I need to send you back to help with the crime scene instead?"

"No, I will stay at the castle," Matthew demanded immediately: "I'm here in a professional capacity, not as her brother."

"Then I suggest we head to my office where we can discuss the matter without any interruptions..." Slughorn suggested, his eyes lingering on the leering expression on the Snape boy's face.

The group headed out of the boys' door back to the corridor that led to the Slytherin common room.

"Yes... that sounds agreeable." Matthew swallowed heavily as they passed the students, who shared the news of Thomas Avery's murder in hushed whispers: "Can we send an elf to contact her or should I...?"

"Actually, Auror McKinnon, your sister and I prefer a different, more effective method of communication nowadays." The Headmaster chimed in with a chuckle: "If you would allow me..."

'What?'

Dumbledore flicked his wand into his palm: "Expecto Patronum!"

A large silvery bird, a phoenix upon closer expectation, burst from the tip of the wood. "Tell Ms. McKinnon to meet us in Professor Slughorn's office down in the dungeons."

The ethereal creature wrenched into a bright ball of silvery light and surged upwards through the ceiling.

"You're joking, aren't you, sir?" Matthew's bewildered gaze returned to the Headmaster. He felt completely gobsmacked: "Are you implying that my younger sister Marlene, who only recently sat her OWLs, can conjure a Patronus strong enough to communicate messages through Hogwarts?"

"It's very true, Matthew!" Slughorn nodded enthusiastically: "I saw her Patronus too. It is a large Granian, similarly to the crest of your House, only with wings of course... Absolutely magnificent!"

"But-"

Something like triumph twinkled in the Headmaster's blue eyes: "You sound surprised about her achievement, Auror McKinnon, yet I was told it was you who taught her the charm?"

"I- what." Matthew cleared his throat as they exited the common room through the hidden entrance: "Well- I mean- yes, I did teach her the basics, but I had no idea she progressed so far already..."

"You should be very proud of her, Matthew- " Slughorn nodded eagerly: " -perfecting such a charm is almost unheard of for a sixth year..."

"Indeed..." Matthew murmured absently as he entered the potions master's office: "Unheard of indeed..."

'There was only one person she could have learned such a charm from and he was certain that the Headmaster knew so as well.'

It did not take long for his sister to arrive, as the knock on the door announced her presence merely a minute later.

"Come in, my dear!"

Matthew watched her as Marlene entered the office, looking as elegant and as graceful as ever. Her piercing blue eyes widened ever so slightly when her sharp gaze caught him standing next to his superior. She schooled her features and flattened any wrinkles in her school uniform before addressing them.

"Professors, Head-Auror Moody, Brother..." She inclined her head ever so slightly to each of them: "Is there a reason you've called me here this morning?"

"Aye, there is!" Moody growled: "We'd been told that you went on patrol rounds with Thomas Avery last night, is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"When did your rounds start, when did they end and what corridors did you patrol?" Moody fired one question after another.

Marlene remained surprisingly calm: "Our rounds started right after the Prefect meeting, so around 8 pm, and ended after 10 pm. We patrolled the corridors on the fifth, fourth, and third floors, as was assigned by the Headgirl."

"Did you notice anything particular about Thomas Avery last night?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes never leaving his sister's: "Did he perhaps seem nervous or even frightened?"

"No, not that I could tell you, sir." Marlene shrugged: "Do you mind informing me what this is about? I know I have the right to learn why I'm being questioned by Aurors."

'That she did.'

Moody and Dumbledore exchanged a quick glance. The latter seemed hesitant but didn't stop Matthew's superior from sharing their reasons with her: "We're asking you about Thomas Avery because the lad's body was found in Hogsmeade this morning with the Dark Mark floating above him."

"Huh, that's interesting, I suppose..." His sister raised a single delicate eyebrow, tossing a braid of blonde curls over one shoulder: "Though I fail to see whatever I might have to do with this tragic incident..."

"We merely try to reverse engineer what might have happened last night." The Headmaster explained, putting up his hands to calm the girl, though Matthew caught the slight edge of excitement in his voice: "Do you mind telling us where you've been after you've finished your rounds, Ms. McKinnon?"

"Are you saying I'm a suspect, Headmaster? Is this an official interrogation now?" A cold humorous chuckle escaped his sister's lips. Her voice was dripped with sarcasm: "Do you actually believe I'm capable of murder and conjuring the Dark Mark?"

'Of course not!'

"Well, how about you tell us?" Moody growled: "You certainly don't seem to be too surprised about his death and neither do you show any concern that one of your peers was killed in cold blood..."

"Sir!" Matthew stepped in: "With all due respect, I will not let you interrogate my sister like this. Marlene, you don't have to answer any suggestive questions that insinuate underlying messages."

"I know, brother dearest, no need to worry about me..." Marlene replied, seemingly unbothered: "Besides, unless he lied to me, Avery went straight back to his common room after we finished our rounds. I'm sure some of his housemates must have interacted with him after he left our patrol..."

"You still haven't told us where you've been afterward, Ms. McKinnon." Dumbledore reminded her; his voice was robbed of the usual grandfatherly tone that Matthew was so used to.

Instead, he regarded his little sister with a look of apprehension and even disappointment: "And perhaps you could also tell us where Mr. Peverell was last night? Unless the two of you were together of course?"

"I suggest you go and ask Harry yourself, Headmaster." Marlene attempted an innocent girlish smile.

"Ms. McKinnon, please just collabo-"

"That is enough," Matthew stated with finality: "There will be no more questions for my sister."

He turned to Moody and Dumbledore: "Marlene shared that she caught nothing suspicious during her patrol rounds and she was far from the last person to have seen Avery that night. There will be no further suggestions that a member of House McKinnon conjured the Dark Mark and murdered in cold blood. How dare any of you imply something so ridiculous after we lost our brother to the mad man!"

"You're free to leave, sister." He finished and shot Marlene a nod. "Give Harry my best wishes."

"Of course, I will." She took a step closer and pecked his cheek before turning towards the professors and Moody one last time: "Have a good day, Professors, Head Auror Moody."

"You too, my dear!" Slughorn bid her farewell while leading her back to the door.

"We will talk about this back in the office, McKinnon!" Moody barked: "One hell of a sister you've got there, lad, not even mentioning that she's capable of conjuring a Patronus already. Make sure to ask her if she ever thought about becoming an Auror."

"I rather doubt it," Matthew murmured, his eyes lingering on the door Marlene had just left through.

'His cute little baby sister had grown up and was onto much bigger things now...'

April 4th, 1977

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

The doors to his private quarters were thrown open. Instantly the pale yew wand spun in his hand, aiming at the sudden intruder. His eyes fell on the silhouette of Lord Avery. Dark rings marred the skin underneath the man's orbs. He looked pale and unhealthy, yet his wand was pointed straight at him, the tip glowing a faint green.

With a lazy flick, the Dark Lord disarmed the man and caught his wand in slender fingers. Yet there had to be a reason for the usually composed man to act so irrationally...

'The Imperius perhaps?'

"You better explain yourself for bursting into my quarters unannounced after I have explicitly stated my desire to be left alone for my research, Lord Avery." The Dark Lord hissed in displeasure while locking the man's legs together, not allowing him to move a single inch: "And you should make sure to apologize for your tone while you're at it! No one yells at Lord Voldemort!"

"I don't give a single fuck about whatever you desire anymore!" Avery roared, desperately fighting against the curse: "What are you going to do now, huh? Are you going to kill me, just like you killed my son?"

"What are you talking about, Avery?"

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me, you fraud!" The man fumbled for a roll of parchment from within his robes and threw it over to him: "You took him from me! And he was doing everything he could to follow your orders!"

The Dark Lord immediately recognized the familiar handwriting he had corresponded with over the last few months ever since trusting his diary to the boy. He skimmed over the short note, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits by the time he was finished.

'No, it couldn't be!'

'Impossible!'

Glancing back up he noticed that Avery had thrown an edition of the Daily Prophet to his feet as well: "You took my son from me... My heir! You had him killed like some filthy muggle!"

The image of a bloodied body hanging from a wooden beam was on full display on the front page of the newspaper. The word 'Failure' had been inscribed into the boy's chest. The scene changed, showing a gloomy green skull and a snake, his Mark, hovering above the body.

"NO!" The Dark Lord hissed, Parseltongue mixing in his speech. With a roar that had the candles and torches flare a bright crimson, he lit the paper in flames: "That is impossible, I did not give orders for this!"

"Liar!" Avery shouted at him: "Read the note and look what they carved into his body!"

Bright silver sparks burst from the Dark Lord's wand, showering the wooden floor.

"You forget yourself! ENOUGH!" The dark Lord finally lost his temper and waved his hand, hurling the man back into the wall with a sickening crunch: "I ordered none of those things!"

"My son..." Avery remained crumbled on the floor, sobbing pathetically: "My poor boy..."

"I will find out who did this and you shall be granted the honor to avenge your son!" He was furious, pacing up and down the room, his thoughts racing and pondering over how this could have happened.

'Who had dared to betray him like this?'

"Look no further than the next mirror then." Avery pulled himself back to his feet, pointing at him accusingly: "Only your Death Eaters know how to conjure your mark! You had my son killed by one of them!"

The man coughed a handful of blood and spit to the ground between the Dark Lord's feet: "I will have my honored revenge. But it shall be on you, Gaunt bastard!"

Crimson eyes widened in rage:

'How did he know?'

'It didn't matter.'

The pale yew wand snapped up: "Crucio!"

He watched as the man screamed and twitched on the floor, taking satisfaction in the fact that he could let out some of his pent-up anger on one of them for now.

"I should kill you for your foolish disrespect, Avery!" He hissed, granting the man a brief pause from the pain: "Your judgment might be clouded by grief, but no one disrespects Lord Voldemort and lives to tell the tale."

"Kill me then." The man chuckled, coughing up even larger amounts of blood: "Britain knows it was you who killed my son. Your Death Eaters know you killed one of their most promising young recruits... How many more will join you now? How many will stay in your ranks?

A burst of harsh laughter came from Avery's throat: "You killed the pureblood heir to a Most Noble House. My family and friends have been informed that should I vanish, then it's only because you have killed me as well. Level that wand at me and you won't have a single follower in a week's time!"

Rage and hatred bubbled inside him, surging through his veins. The wand in his fingers itched to slash at the man and see the light die in his eyes. But the Dark Lord was no fool. By doing so he would deal irreparable damage to his cause.

'He needed time alone to think.'

"LEAVE THEN!" The Dark Lord roared, swatting the man out of his quarters with a wave of his hand like some pesky fly.

He locked the doors and forced himself to remain calm and not give in to the rage. Voldemort struggled for almost a minute but finally managed to bury the wrath deep within him, bottling it up to be unleashed at a later point in time.

'The Avery boy was dead...'

'But what of the boy's possession? What of the Diary?'

The Dark Lord himself had told Avery of the hidden enclosure in the walls of the seventh-year dormitory. It was a secret spot he had created during his time as the Headboy. Yet if the Aurors and perhaps even the old muggle lover were to search the spot, there was always the chance that they might find it.

'His Diary.'

'His very first safeguard.'

Could the Diary have been the reason the boy had been attacked in the first place? Was this perhaps the work of the mysterious Parselmouth, who was hunting down his Horcruxes one by one? It sure made the most sense...

The shard of his soul should have been able to permanently possess the boy at this point in time. Avery had been fed and taught magic far beyond what any seventh year could learn at Hogwarts. Only an exceptionally powerful wizard or witch could have bested him in a duel and killed him...

The Dark Lord was struggling to put things in clear order.

'Where to even start?'

Over a year ago, someone had found and destroyed his first Horcrux, the Ring. Said person had definitely been a Parselmouth. Then Bellatrix and her foolish husband and his brother had lost the Cup on their way to hide it from the world. There was also the mysterious individual at Hogwarts, who managed to somehow infiltrate and hide the Chamber of Secrets in addition to concealing the hidden room on the seventh floor.

'But was it truly the same enemy that struck against him on all of those occasions?'

Cold fury and fear clutched the Dark Lord's heart while his fingers curled around the chain on his neck, leading to the golden Locket of his great ancestor, Salazar Slytherin.

Two of his Horcruxes had definitely been found and destroyed, namely the Ring and the Cup. The other two were now at Hogwarts, though the Dark Lord did not know whether they had been found by his enemy or left in their respective hiding place.

His eyes darted down to the sparkling golden object. He had been wearing the Locket permanently on himself ever since the destruction of the Ring. However, slowly he discerned its negative side effects. He felt more irritated, was quicker to anger, and sometimes struggled to put that brilliant mind of his to maximum use.

'Perhaps it was time to find a permanent hideout for the Locket.'

'One that would leave no doubt that it can't be found and reached by any other save himself.'

His thought drifted back to the edition of the Daily Profit he had burned in his rage. Lord Avery had been correct in only one assumption...

Solely his Death Eater's knew the incantation of the spell that conjured the Dark Mark, right?

'Or perhaps not anymore...'

A pair of brilliant emerald green eyes, shadows of hatred flickering deep with them, danced through his mind. The young wizard's fingers curled around a long, thin pale wand while crimson flames erupted and flared from its tip.

'Harry Ignotus Peverell...'

The boy had witnessed the incantation that night, for the Dark Lord himself had performed the spell in front of him. A foolish mistake that shall never be repeated.

'Was it merely that the last orders he'd given to the Avery boy also centered around Peverell? Namely, to learn more about him?'

Perhaps... Perhaps not... The Dark Lord would solve the mystery as he always did. First, his Death Eaters needed to be questioned. If there was a traitor within his ranks, said person had to be found and eliminated immediately.

However, if it had been none of his Death Eaters, and neither did they share the incantation with anyone else, then it could have only been the boy...

Crimson red eyes flashed threateningly while another long hiss escaped his throat:

"If you take something from me, Harry, then I will simply take even more from you..."