They made their way back to school grounds hastily, heading straight to Dumbledore's office with the phial in hand. His eyes lit up, a smile passing his lips as he took it from Harry, before growing serious.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he tipped the phial into the Pensieve, dipping their heads into the clear blue and returned to Slughorn's memory. Everything had been the same, until they discovered what Voldemort really asked Slughorn.

"I was in the library the other night, in the Restricted section, and I read something rather odd, about a bit of rare magic and I thought perhaps you could illuminate me. It's called, as I understand it– a Horcrux."

Slughorn's faint smile had evaporated altogether.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, swallowing thickly.

"Horcrux. I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it." Riddle answered calmly.

"I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom, but that's very dark stuff, very dark indeed." Slughorn returned, muttering under his breath as nervousness took over.

"Yes, sir. Which is why I came to you." Riddle returned.

Slughorn frowned, clearly disturbed, before speaking very quietly. So quietly, Gene had to listen even closer.

"A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." Slughorn said, with some reluctance.

"But I don't understand how that works, sir." he asked, stepping closer.

"One splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed." Slughorn explained, sending Gene's stomach turning.

"Protected?"

"That part of your soul that was hidden, lives on. In other words, you cannot die." Slughorn looked positively horrified.

Tom Riddle nodded, turning away as he looked into the fireplace. Gene could have sworn she saw a glint of red in his eyes.

"How does one split his soul, sir?" he asked without turning.

"I think you can guess the answer to that, Tom." Slughorn returned, quiet again.

"Murder." he answered, without a moments hesitation.

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature. After, one is never the same." Slughorn continued to explain, and Gene so badly wanted to stop, as if it could make a difference.

"Can you only split your soul once? For instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number-"

"Seven! Merlin's beard, Tom!" Slughorn exclaimed, "Isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces–" he stopped, pausing for a moment, "This is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?"

Riddle turned in his place, offering a faint smile, "Of course, sir. It'll be our little secret." he smiled.

Gene's vision was blurred with thick, black smoke, lifting her head from the Pensieve with a small gasp, swallowing hard as she glanced between Harry and Dumbledore.

"So, the other Horcruxes?" Harry began. "Do you think you know what they are, sir?"

"The locket." Gene muttered in realisation, causing Dumbledore to smile in turn. "And Helga Hufflepuff's cup."

"Yes. I would be prepared to bet– perhaps not my other hand– but a couple of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

"Do you think that's why he really wanted to come back to Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked. "To try and find something from one of the other founders?"

"My thoughts precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "But unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for he was turned away without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders' objects. He definitely had two– he may have found three– that is the best we can do for now."

"Even if he got something of Ravenclaw's or of Gryffindor's, it still leaves a sixth Horcrux," Gene said. "Unless he got both?"

"I don't think so," Dumbledore said. "I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of the snake, Nagini?"

That seemed to make a lot of sense, now that Dumbledore had mentioned it. Where Voldemort went, Nagini seemed to follow. It was only time until they had figured it out.

But then, a thought began to dawn on Gene, very quickly and very suddenly at such speed, she felt as though she was falling from a very tall height. Gene did her best to mask her sudden realisation, hoping that the colour would return to her skin and her breathing would even out as the conversation continued as it was.

"So, the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the locket and the snake are still intact and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's?" Harry did his best to summarise and Dumbledore nodded, bowing his head.

"You're still looking for them, sir, aren't you? That's you've been going when you've been leaving the school." Gene realised slowly.

"Correct," Dumbledore said. "I have been looking for a very long time. I think, perhaps, I may be close to finding another one. There are hopeful signs." he told them.

"Then we should join you, sir." Gene quickly said, glancing at Harry who nodded eagerly, "We can help you get rid of it."

He stared at them intently before breaking into a small smile, giving a slight nod, to Gene's relief.

"Yes," he said, "I think you have both earned that right."

"So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?" Harry asked after a long, agonising silence.

"Yes, I think so," Dumbledore nodded. "Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical power remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort, even without his Horcruxes."

Gene scoffed, "We don't have uncommon skill and power." she muttered. Pure luck, sure, but power? Not in a million years. However, her words had caused Dumbledore's stare to turn on her and she froze for a moment.

"Yes, you do." he said, almost irritated, "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can love. Which, given everything that has happened to you both, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are."

Gene did her best to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at this, though it wasn't intended to mock her headmaster. It was more out of disbelief, because after all these years of being told the same thing, she was finding it harder and harder to understand how.

"Power the Dark Lord knows not..." Harry recited the prophecy, "Love? Just love?" he asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"Yes– just love," Dumbledore said. "But never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort mistakenly hadn't given up by the time Gene had survived his curse, proceeding to try again with Harry, to no avail. From then on, he claimed the two of you as the people who would be most dangerous to him– and in doing so, he made you the people who would be most dangerous to him!"

"I don't understand, sir." Gene frowned, watching as Dumbledore grew more agitated by the minute at their lack of understanding.

"Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realise that, one day, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. Except, he made it so that there were two of you. His fatal mistake. He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action."

"But–" Harry began, though it was his mistake.

"By attempting to kill you, one after the other, Voldemort himself singled out two remarkable people who sit here in front of me, and gave them the tools for the job! It is Voldemort's fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you even understand the language in which he gives orders, and yet, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort's world, neither of you have been seduced by the Dark Arts and never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's followers!"

"Well, of course not." Gene returned, frowning because it was surely obvious.

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"But, sir," Harry began, watching his tone carefully this time, "it all comes to the same thing, though, doesn't it? We've got to try and kill him, or–"

"Got to?" Dumbledore said. "Of course you've got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you will never rest until you've tried! You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark both of you as his equal, in a sense. In other words, you are free to choose your way and turn your back on the prophecy. But Voldemort continues to set store by it. He will continue to hunt you both, which makes it certain, really, that–"

"That one of us will end up killing the other," Gene said quietly. "But not both of us, right, sir?" she said.

Dumbledore suddenly took on a grave expression, as though he had just frozen in time.

"What?" Harry said, glancing between Gene and Dumbledore feverishly, "What do you mean?"

"One must die at the hand of the other," Gene said quietly, "for neither can live while the other survives."

She knew it off by heart at this point, because she thought of the prophecy so often, that the words had seared themselves into her brain.

"That doesn't mean– well, it doesn't have to mean that." Harry said, looking to Dumbledore again.

"Neither can live while the other survives, Harry." Gene said, her voice calm with acceptance, "One of us has got to die and the other will kill Voldemort."

"You said it yourself, sir. We're free to turn our backs on the prophecy." Harry said firmly, brows knitted together in frustration as he looked at Gene, her somber expression giving far too much away.

"He will continue to hunt you both." Dumbledore repeated soberly. "I am sorry."

They were soon excused, Harry brushing past Gene as they stepped into the chill that enveloped them into the corridors, and she watched him walk faster, away from her.

"Harry–" she caught up easily, her tone gentle as she went to wrap her hand around his forearm.

"You're acting like it's you that's going to die."

Harry whipped around in his place, causing Gene to almost flinch. His chest rose and fell heavily, swallowing back the anger that she knew he was doing his best to suppress.

"You're acting like you already know. But you don't. You don't know, Gene." he said with urgency.

Gene's expression softened as she looked at him, her fingers trailing down his forearm to grip his hand in her own and squeezing gently.

"The snake, Harry." she said quietly, "It's not Nagini. It's me."

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ok so i hope this makes sense to everyone reading and explains why her family history and transformation stuff is important hehe

so yeah... sad times for genie <3