It was near midnight in one of England’s deepest forests. Harry Potter stood guard outside the tent where he lived together with his friends since five months. During the monotonous weeks that followed each other and saw dull autumn turn into cold winter, Harry had found his mind wandering off from his real purpose  - the chase after the horcruxes - more and more often. A multitude of minor events from the past year rumbled over and over in his head. He did not know what to make of it, sensing a purpose and a pattern at times, only to see them disappear in shrouds of doubts and confusion the next moment. He found it hard to concentrate on anything and there were times, particularly after being engulfed in one of Voldemort’s fits of roaring emotions, during which he sometimes blacked out, that Harry wondered if he was, perhaps, going mad.

Harry and Hermione had endured the hardships and the solitude of the prolonged camping without interruption. Ron, on the other hand, had been lost to them for a couple of months after a nasty argument and only returned the other night under mysterious circumstances. 

Harry walked restlessly a few steps back and fro. No one stirred in between the bare trees. Ruminating over the strange events when the sword of Gryffindor had presented itself to him, Harry had a feeling that maybe he had been given an important piece of a puzzle and that he should, if he exerted himself, be able to make the picture out. 

What disturbed his course of thoughts tonight were surges of feelings from time to time that did not belong to himself, but, presumably, to Voldemort. They were not overwhelming or painful, more like unpleasant flashes that coursed trough his body from time to time. Harry was sure that Voldemort was speaking to his Death Eaters. He had experienced similar sensations before and found out afterwards that they coincided with such reunions.

At midnight Ron rose to relay him, drunken with sleep, but bravely fighting to keep his eyes open. Harry told him in a low voice that he would be gone for a couple of hours and be back in the morning, at the latest. Ron was suddenly wide-awake, pleading with Harry to stay, threatening to wake Hermione up for a council, until he yielded to Harry’s determined countenance and grave eyes. 

”I really need to check something out, Ron. I have a feeling I should have done it long ago,” said Harry.