Seventh Horcrux

Harry Potter vs. Himself (Pt. 1)

I brought my trunk out from the guest bedroom. I held a hand out to Hermione, but she refused it with a tight smile. "You go ahead. I need to pack and have a talk with my parents."

With a quick wave, I apparated to the Weasleys' hovel.

Arriving at the Burrow, Hermione carefully stepped around my trunk, which was spewing a pearly mist. Soon, I would need to add fairy wings to my cauldron of Felix Felicis.

"Hi guys," Hermione said, nodding to Ron, Ginevra, and me before turning to the man beside us. "Nice to see you again, Professor."

Lupin smiled at her. "I'm not a professor anymore. Please, call me Remus."

Something deep inside Hermione exploded at the thought of addressing a former authority figure as an equal, and she devolved into stuttered protests.

Ron interjected, "Lupin's working with the werewolves now."

Lupin sighed. "They're not working with me, though. Not after all the Werewolf Rights legislation that just got pushed through."

I snorted. "It's about time, really. They were first suggested decades ago."

Lupin said, "I'm surprised you all know so much about this."

"Long-standing interest," I said.

"My ex-girlfriend was really into it." I think Ron was blushing, although it was hard to tell with the potions fumes obscuring his face.

With an arrogant tilt to her chin, Hermione declared, "Everyone should care about oppression."

"I don't actually care that much. I just like spending time with Harry," Ginevra clarified.

"That's horrible," I said. "Your brother is a werewolf."

"I am not!" Ron wailed.

Lupin slinked away during the ensuing argument. The whole incident was terribly upsetting. I was almost certain that Ron had come to terms with his lycanthropy. Giving up, I turned to Hermione. "You aren't going to believe this. Dumbledore got us presents."

I was right. Hermione didn't believe me at all. "Harry," she said delicately. "Dumbledore is dead."

I beamed. "I know. I think I like him better this way. He never did this when he was alive."

Hermione paled. "Um…"

"He left us stuff," Ron said. "Like, inheritance."

"Us?" Hermione said.

"The three of us. Not Ginevra," I said. "Hardly surprising. He's never liked her."

Ginevra pouted. "Really? I don't think we ever met."

"That explains it, then," I said.

Hermione frowned. "I've barely spoken to him, myself. Have you, Ron?"

Ron shook his head.

Her brow wrinkled. "What did he give us?"

"You got a book" – I handed it to her – "because everyone knows you like reading, Ron got Dumbledore's wand, and I got a signet ring."

Ron swished the elder wood wand, causing weak, black sparks to fall out, and I flashed the Gaunt ring at her. Ron said, "The stuff came with a note, but Harry wouldn't let me read it."

The note had said something along the lines of:

Harry,

Do not wear this ring. It is a Horcrux and will kill you. I'm speaking from personal experience. DO NOT PUT ON THE RING.