“Would you care to tell me where you had been last night, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, holding Harry’s gaze.

Harry sat stiffly. He’d received a summons from the headmaster the next day, requesting a private meeting to continue their Voldemort lessons. Harry’s immediate reaction was to ignore the letter given what he now knew about the headmaster, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t make it obvious that he knew anything and he needed Dumbledore to find Riddle’s horcruxes. He knew what the horcruxes were, Riddle had told him, but Dumbledore had them hidden somewhere. He only knew of two, the diary and the ring, and they were in Dumbledore’s office, but they were destroyed and useless to Riddle. So, he resolved to act like nothing had changed.

“I’m sorry, sir, I just went for a walk around the lake. I needed a break from all the…tension in the school,” Harry said calmly. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “However, I don’t think I need to impress upon you the danger that threatens you, even here.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, keeping his face blank despite how badly he wanted to react.

“I cannot have you wandering outside these walls, do you understand?” Dumbledore said, staring at Harry sternly.

Harry held his tongue against what he truly wanted to say and just nodded. They held each other’s gaze and Harry frowned minutely when he felt a prodding in his mind. He realized the headmaster was using Legilimency on him and instantly did what Snape had been teaching him. He pretended he hadn’t noticed anything and let simple, unimportant memories float around his mind, occasionally allowing a semi-important one of him discussing the war with Ron and Hermione pass by. He sat stoically as Dumbledore searched, inwardly relieved when the man eventually retreated.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said, shifting the heavy atmosphere. “Now, have you had any success with our Professor Slughorn?”

“Unfortunately, no, I haven’t, sir. He dismisses me anytime I mention Riddle,” Harry said, realizing he’d have to come up with something to keep Dumbledore appeased and from knowing he knew the truth.

Dumbledore frowned. “Well, I must admit, I am disappointed.”

Harry felt a twist in his stomach, making him feel guilty for disappointing the headmaster. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You understand the importance of this task?” Dumbledore said, his serious tone back. “We cannot win this war without it. You must not fail.”

“Yes, sir. I promise I’ll get it,” Harry said and Dumbledore smiled.

“Excellent. I have faith in you, my boy,” the headmaster said and, again, Harry forced himself to not react. “Now, to the real reason I asked you here this evening. I have another memory I wish for you to see.”

Harry sat up straighter, interested. What else could he learn and how would it fit into both Dumbledore’s lie and the truth?

He walked over to the Pensieve at Dumbledore’s gesture and watched the memory fall into the basin.

“In this memory, we see Tom pursue his collecting obsession and how far he was willing to go to get what he desired,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded and entered the Pensieve, landing outside a large, stone house with a blue door and perfectly manicured window planters. He was standing next to a young man who wore clean, smart robes, making him look quite professional. He held a bouquet of wildflowers and adjusted his tie before knocking on the door.

The door opened to reveal a short, overweight woman with her hair in a beehive and thick, overly large round glasses. Her dress was a glittery red to match her garish eye makeup, and she held a black, feathered boa around her shoulders. Her eyes lit up when she recognized Tom at her door.

“Oh, Tom, you’re back,” the woman said in a high voice. “Mr. Burke can’t stay away, can he?”

Tom smiled and held out the bouquet. “Of course he can’t, but you know that is not the only reason I visit, my dear Hepzibah,” he said in a smooth voice.

Hepzibah blushed and giggled, taking the bouquet. “Oh, Tom, you’re such a charmer,” she said, batting her eyes at him as he inclined his head. “Come on in. I’ve got some special treasures to show you today.”

Harry followed Tom as he entered the house. They were assaulted by floral pattern and trinkets covering every surface. Tom sat on the sofa as invited and Hepzibah sat in the adjacent chair.

“Hokey,” Hepzibah called and a house elf popped into the room. “Put these in the vase and bring the tea.”

The house elf nodded and took the bouquet, putting it in an empty vase on top of a cabinet before disappearing again. A few seconds later, the house elf reappeared, setting a full tea tray on the coffee table.

“How is Borgin and Burke’s treating you, Tom?” Hepzibah asked, preparing an overly sweet cup of tea for herself.

“It is fine,” Tom said. “Tedious, perhaps, at times, but it does allow me to travel and meet such wonderful people, like yourself.”

Hepzibah giggled again at Tom’s flattery. “You certainly make Mr. Burke’s harassment bearable, such a lovely young man, you are.”

Tom smiled at her and Harry was sure she was seconds from passing out at his attention.

“You know, I know you are here on shop business, but I think I have something you may be interested in yourself,” Hepzibah said, giving Tom a sly look over her cup.

“You do?” Tom said, raising an eyebrow in interest.

“Hokey!” Hepzibah called out again and the house elf returned with a pop. “Bring the boxes from the chest. You know the one.”

Inclining their head, the house elf disappeared but reappeared a second later, holding a couple of small boxes. Hepzibah took them and Hokey stood off to the side.

“Now, you must keep these secret from Mr. Burke. These are not for sale and never will be,” Hepzibah said, taking the larger of the two boxes and holding it in her lap as she waited for Tom’s promise.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Tom said, leaning towards her.

Smiling, she pulled the lid off the box, revealing a small, golden goblet sat in its cut-out in the velvet bedding. Harry spotted the golden badger engraved on the front of the goblet and he knew exactly what it was from Riddle telling him.

“Is that—” Tom trailed off, flicking his gaze away from the goblet and back to Hepzibah.

“The very one,” Hepzibah said. “The goblet that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff.”

“Quite the treasure,” Tom said, his tone shifting slightly and a glint temporarily appearing in his eye.

“Yes, it is. One of my most prized possessions,” Hepzibah said, admiring the goblet. “Mr. Burke has been after me to sell it to him for years, but this is one treasure I will not part with.”

“Understandable. Such a piece is priceless,” Tom said and Hepzibah nodded, closing the box and setting it aside.

“I knew you would understand,” Hepzibah said as she picked up the smaller box in her lap. “As special as that was, I know this is one that you will really appreciate.” She gave him an almost mischievous smile as she held out the box and pulled back the lid.

Harry and Tom both leaned forward to examine the locket of Salazar Slytherin. It was just as Riddle had described: a kind of antique gold oval shape with an amber glass front over a snake engraving on a silver chain. The glint had returned to Tom’s eye as he stared intently at the locket. Harry could see his deep desire for both items, but more so for the personal item of Slytherin himself. He could see it in the dark brown eyes that Tom would do anything to have these special items.

Glancing back at Hepzibah, she had clearly noticed the change in Tom for her smile faltered and she pulled the locket closer to herself and away from Tom. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and closed the box when Tom’s stare only turned more obsessive. She gathered the goblet’s box and handed them to Hokey.

“Return these, please, Hokey,” Hepzibah commanded and the house elf disappeared to obey. “I hope you enjoyed that. I got that locket from Mr. Burke, you know. He said some homeless woman sold it to him years ago. Likely stolen, he told me.”

Tom’s expression didn’t change. He just moved his hard stare to Hepzibah. She coughed lightly and her eyes darted around, obviously still uncomfortable with the change in Tom’s demeanor.

“Well, I do truly love your visits, Tom, but I do not believe I have anything for Mr. Burke today,” Hepzibah said, clearly trying to encourage Tom to end the visit and leave.

She gasped when Tom suddenly rose to his feet and pulled his wand. Before she could say anything, a familiar green light struck her in the chest and, a moment later, the memory went dark. He was ejected from the Pensieve with Dumbledore.

He had a lot of pretending to do. He had to act like he had no idea what the items were or what Riddle had done to them. He had to pretend and hope he could learn where they were now.

He sat across from the headmaster for their post-viewing discussion.

“That memory was that of Hokey, the house elf who would ultimately be blamed for the murder of her master, Hepzibah Smith,” Dumbledore said, leaning on his desk.

“So, it was Tom? But why would he kill her?” Harry asked, feigning confusion.

“Tom had decided to pursue some legendary items to add to his collection,” Dumbledore said.

“The goblet and the locket?” Harry said, keeping up his feigned ignorance. Dumbledore nodded. “So, they were real? Actual heirlooms of the Founders?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “I hope you will come to understand the importance of the items Tom chose to collect in time.”

“Why did he want them to begin with? What did he do with them?” Harry asked.

“That, I believe, will be explained upon your retrieval of Professor Slughorn’s memory,” Dumbledore said.

Harry bristled internally, silently frustrated with the man’s secrets and willful withholding of crucial information. It was like Riddle had told them; Dumbledore gave up information only when he wanted to progress his game. It truly had nothing to do with what any of them needed to know. It was all about how Dumbledore could manipulate them to play their roles according to his ideal rules.

“I understand, sir,” Harry said, keeping his bitterness and anger inside. “Do you know where they are now, the goblet and locket?”

“I have been searching, but, unfortunately, I have been unsuccessful thus far,” Dumbledore said and Harry sighed, unable to tell if the man was lying or not. “I believe that is enough for today. Continue to pursue Professor Slughorn and do not do anymore nighttime wandering.”

Harry couldn’t help the slight narrowing of his eyes, but erased the expression as quick as he could. “Yes, sir. Good night.”

“So, the test is related to the traits of each house?” Hermione said.

“That’s what Riddle said,” Harry said with a shrug.

He, Ron, and Hermione were in the Founders’ Library, escaping the revitalized hatred that filled the school once again. It had been a few days since his meeting with Riddle, the burning of the Gryffindor banners, and the shattering of the hourglasses. Any settling emotions had disappeared and everyone had resumed fighting, verbally and physically, every other day, just like the beginning of the year. They hadn’t been able to escape to the Chamber since that day as tensions had returned against Snape and Malfoy, and Harry was acutely aware that Dumbledore was watching them all closely. The man was suspicious of them, making them have to lay low and be overly careful.

The three of them had finally managed to sneak into the Chamber using the Map of Argyllshire entrance. They’d sent a message to the others using the bracelets to stay away from the Chamber for a while and to keep up their Occlumency when around Dumbledore. They couldn’t risk the headmaster finding out about what they knew and were doing.

So, the three of them were on their own, at least for a little while.

“But, like you said, you can’t match with a sword based on your house,” Ron said from where he sat sideways on an armchair, his legs bouncing over the arm. “You’re Gryffindor and the others are Slytherin, and I doubt any of them had the Sorting Hat try to put them in another house like you.”

“We need to know which test belongs to which sword first,” Harry pointed out. “Then we can match heroes with swords.”

Hermione pulled out a blank piece of parchment, ready to take some notes. “What did the prophecy say again, about the tests?”

“Defeat fear, find truth, feel love, and accept life,” Harry said easily, the prophecy’s words burned into his memory.

Hermione scribbled down what he had said, but didn’t stop there. She wrote down several other things before spinning the page around. Harry quickly scanned the page and realized she’d written the traits associated with each of the four houses.

“One of them at least is very obvious,” Hermione said, pointing at ‘defeat fear’. “Gryffindor is all about bravery so his sword’s test must be about defeating fear.”

“Makes sense,” Ron said, “but what about the others? None of them mention being a backstabbing snake.”

Hermione glared at him while Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew the Mind Magic had spiked in Ron to cause the comment.

Ron seemed to realize the same thing and dropped his eyes sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“The others are more complicated and harder to match to the prophecy,” Hermione acknowledged.

Harry studied the traits and the prophecy’s words. “The truth one could be Ravenclaw,” he said. “Truth is a form of knowledge.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. They studied the remaining traits, trying to determine which test matched with Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

“Well, Hufflepuff mentions compassion,” Ron said after several minutes. “It’s kind of like love.”

“Which leaves ‘accept life’ for Slytherin,” Harry said. “I think it’s the only match-ups that make sense.”

“Alright, so we know what kind of test each sword has, sort of, but now who goes after which one?” Ron said, returning to his sideways position in his chair.

“Riddle said it has to do with what Dumbledore’s done to us and taken from us,” Harry said.

“Can’t we just guess?” Ron said. “Or maybe you can all get all the swords and it doesn’t matter.”

Harry shook his head. “No, it matters, and if we’re wrong, then someone dies. Gryffindor’s journal said they could be controlled through their swords, so they had to be sure only trustworthy people could get to the swords.”

“Then how did Dumbledore become headmaster?” Ron scoffed.

“He fooled them, fooled Hogwarts. Even the Ministry,” Harry said with a sigh. “He’s good. He’s gotten away with it all these years, since Riddle.” He felt some anger rise in him, but he knew this was his own and not the Mind Magic. He couldn’t believe Dumbledore had been the true villain all this time, had caused him so much pain and manipulated the way he felt for a game.

“Are any of these specific to you?” Hermione asked, pointing at the words of the prophecy.

Harry shook his head again, leaning his forearms on his knees and linking his fingers together. “He took all of them from me and has caused me to be afraid. It’s likely the same for all of us.”

“I think the four of you need to meet and talk about this,” Hermione said. “You need to compare what Dumbledore’s done to you.”

Harry looked at her and sighed, nodding. He knew she was right, but how was he, Snape, and Malfoy supposed to get out of the castle at the same time without Dumbledore noticing?

“Come on, we should go,” Hermione said.

Agreeing, they all got to their feet and began to leave. They stopped at a podium by the opening to the Library where the Marauder’s Map lay open. Harry had decided they needed to know who was around the three entrances they had to the Chamber, especially when they were leaving, so he’d finally decided to bring the Map down so they could track.

“Hey, what’s that?” Ron asked, lifting the flap that covered Gryffindor Tower. It was still blurred and wavy. The same effect that had been over the Chamber had disappeared, but it was still on the Tower.

“I’ve no idea,” Harry said, shrugging. “It’s been like that for a while.”

Ron just hummed and dropped the flap. They determined the second floor was clear and left the Chamber.

Harry wrapped his cloak around himself as the chilly winter wind blew through the Astronomy Tower, whipping around him. He gazed up at the full moon, his thoughts travelling to Lupin and then to Sirius. He sighed sadly and his chest ached at the thought of his godfather. He was the reason he’d snuck up to the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night despite Dumbledore’s warning to stop wandering. Ever since learning the truth about Dumbledore’s role in everything, he’d been bombarded with nightmares about everything he’d been through, from Halloween to the Dursleys to Sirius’ death. He was struggling to accept that it had all been arranged by Dumbledore. He couldn’t decide if that made things more his fault or not.

A tear escaped and fell down his cheek, but he ignored it, letting it dry by the nighttime breeze.

He felt lost and alone. Sure, he had his friends, the others involved in training, even the other heroes, but he didn’t know what to trust anymore. He didn’t know what was real, if anything was at all. What if even his friendship with Ron and Hermione wasn’t real, was just a part of the Mind Magic? How did he know who he really was? Would he ever know?

He spun his head around when he heard a footstep, gripping his wand tightly. His eyes found Malfoy step out of the dark, his hands raised with his palms out.

Harry forced the Mind Magic’s anger down, recognizing the sudden spike the moment he saw a supposed ‘enemy’.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, relaxing his hold on his wand.

Malfoy walked over to stand across from Harry. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall making up the archway. He stared out at the dark grounds, the wind ruffling his blonde hair and pajamas.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Malfoy said shortly. “Visions…memories…whatever they are.”

Harry nodded, understanding, but said nothing, looking back out at the grounds himself.

“You?”

Harry glanced at the Slytherin, but the other boy wasn’t looking at him. “Nightmare,” he said, just as shortly.

Malfoy nodded, but didn’t respond. They fell into a silence, gazing into the dark. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about having Malfoy there, his real emotions and his Mind Magic emotions warring with each other.

“Are you mad?” Malfoy said suddenly and Harry looked at him with a frown.

“About what?”

“Everything. Dumbledore, what he’s done to you.”

“I mean, he’s murdered or made me forget nearly everyone I’ve ever cared about, so yeah, I’m mad.”

“Did he make you think things were your fault or that bad things were alright?”

Both Cedric and Sirius flashed before his eyes followed by his uncle. “Yeah, he did.”

“How do you know he did it, that it’s not true?”

“I don’t.”

“So, it could be true?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder. “Could be. Depends what it is, I suppose.”

Malfoy was silent for a time. “My father.”

Harry gazed at the blonde steadily. “What about him?”

“He’s got a way about him to make sure I learn what he wants me to.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at the blonde’s vagueness. He was left to decipher what Malfoy could be talking about when no more comments or information was forthcoming. It was a vague comment, but he couldn’t help his mind from thinking about his uncle. It’s the kind of thing he would say if asked about a bruise or his life in Privet Drive. His stare turned curious.

“Your father,” he started carefully, “does he…”

Malfoy looked at him sharply, the grey eyes narrowed, but Harry was sure he could see something behind the glare. He knew it to be in his own eyes, too, because he’d spent his life hiding it, just like Malfoy was.

Suddenly he was seeing a younger him sitting beside a younger Malfoy in the same place they currently were. A few tears were falling silently down Malfoy’s face as he stared out at the horizon. Harry could just make out light bruising on the blonde’s left cheek.

“I understand, you know,” Harry said and Malfoy sneered.

“What do you know?”

“Exactly what you’re feeling.”

Malfoy turned to look at him with a frown.

“I’ve never told anyone either.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and the vision ended.

Harry met the older grey eyes in front of him. “I’ve never told anyone either,” he repeated.

Just like in the vision, Malfoy’s eyes widened with all kinds of emotions before narrowing into a glare again.

“What the hell do you know, Potter?” Malfoy snapped before storming from the Tower.

Harry blinked as his mind replayed the interaction and the vision. He thought about the things Riddle had implied about what Dumbledore had done to the four of them to create his key players. They had all gone through a similar trauma, had all been subjected to a similar life. He stared in the direction Malfoy had gone.

Had Dumbledore forced them all to stay in abusive homes?