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“So Voldemort is ‘halfblood’ then?” Parvati was confused. “I don’t get that. Why would he be a pureblood fanatic if he was halfblood?”

“I don’t understand either,” Daphne looked even more baffled than Parvati. “I mean, I’m supposedly ‘pureblood,’ but I’ve never even cared about it. That was one of the things I always hated about Slytherin! Everyone seemed obsessed with being pureblood. I...” Daphne gulped and looked ashamed, “...I was just too scared to say anything against anyone...”

“Maybe it’s because your parents were never fussed about it,” Harry responded. “A lot of people learn to hate people who are different because they're taught to by their parents. Anyway--don’t beat yourself up Daphne--you’re the only Slytherin I’ve ever known who was brave enough to stand up to the rest of them... even Blaise--he’s a good guy, and he’s brave enough to sit with us now--but even he’s still too scared to be true to himself.”

“And it’s not just Slytherins Daphne,” Luna said, looking a bit sad. “A lot of people in other Houses think purebloods are better too--even though they try to act like they don’t. But I admit, I don’t understand why a lot of halfbloods think purebloods are better too...”

“They do?” Daphne’s perplex deepened. “It’s not just Voldemort then?”

“Yes,” replied Luna with a nod. “A lot of Slytherins must be halfblood, but they will never admit it. Some in Ravenclaw are a bit like that too...”

“Luna’s right,” Harry clenched his jaw. “A lot of purebloods and halfbloods in the other Houses--even Hufflepuff--say they’re not prejudiced, but you wouldn’t know it half the time from the little things they let slip... Many halfbloods are actually ashamed of their muggle sides and wish they were purebloods...”

“And even in Gryffindor, people find excuses to think that they’re better than other people,” Hermione huffed with an angry wag of her tail. “Look at McLaggen. He thinks his family’s blood-status and wealth gives him a right to be a pompous arse and act like a bullying lout... and don’t forget Ron’s rat--Peter Pettigrew--he turned out to be one of Voldemort’s minions...”

“And then there’s Percy Weasley,” Harry snarled. His voice began to rise, “He thinks Hermione belongs in a zoo--without any clothes on...”

“He’s the one who signed the summons demanding that Hermione be put on trial too...” Harry continued furiously, “and he’s Minister Umbridge’s deputy minister now and we all know what She thinks about muggleborns and ‘halfbreeds.’ He and the Minister are as bad as Voldemort and Wormtail as far as I’m concerned.”

Everyone at the Mingling Table was shocked, and all of the cat-witches’ furry tails bristled angrily. This was the first time since Harry and Hermione had returned from London that they had taken the opportunity to talk about what had happened at the Trial--everyone had been too excited celebrating their return the last few days to properly discuss all the details.

They had all met for lunch after Harry and Hermione had left Dumbledore’s office, and the Potters had begun to tell the rest of the Unaffilated what they had learned so far about Tom Riddle.

Fleur was fuming. Her father had warned her to be careful and not talk openly about being part-Veela while she was in Britain, and now she was beginning to understand why he had been so adamant. She had almost blurted out proudly at the wand weighing at the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament that the Veela hair in her wand had come from her grandmother before she remembered what he had said.

The Pureblood Supremacists in France had been banned from holding any political offices for a long time, and people of mixed descent were able to be open about their heritage without fear. But it was not so in Britain, where Veela had to be registered and Pureblood Supremacists could still make law.

Dora was just happy she had managed to get the Potters out of the Ministry before the Minister had concocted new trumped up charges and arrested them. Apparently the rest of the Unaffiliated were now having similar thoughts because Dora suddenly found herself at the centre of attention, and everyone’s expressions had changed from shock and anger to looks of adoration.

Luna and Parvati pounced on Dora and hugged her.

“Thanks for looking after them Dora,” Parvati said, peppering the blushing older girl with kisses.

Hermione’s bushy ginger tail waved happily as the mood settled again. Harry was smiling at the two cat-witches embracing the girl with electric green hair.

Hermione felt another presence nearby; she looked up and saw Jennifer Watts watching them longingly from the otherwise empty Gryffindor table and picking at her food. Hermione smiled at Jennifer and the other girl shyly smiled back.

The Unaffiliated concluded lunch and Harry arranged to meet the following day for Patronus lessons as he and Hermione would be spending most of the afternoon in Dumbledore’s pensieve after three o’clock. Harry chased a snitch around the quidditch field for an hour with Viktor before cleaning up and returning to the Headmaster’s office with Hermione.

~o0o~

Out of the corner of his eye, Albus Dumbledore could see the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black shaking his head and frowning at him. Albus chuckled softly. Clearly Phineas disapproved of allowing students to reach their own conclusions and influence the Headmaster’s decisions. At least Phineas wasn’t rudely interrupting the proceeding.

“The horcrux that used to be in me was a mistake,” Harry mused, “Tom Riddle didn’t mean to create that one. And he told Slughorn that he thought seven was the most magically powerful number--so that means there were probably seven plus the one in me if he thought that seven was the strongest number doesn’t it?”

“I think six, Harry,” Hermione suggested, “If Riddle considered seven soul fragments as being the most powerful number, he would have included himself. So it seems most likely that he only made six total...”

“But what if he found out that we’ve been destroying them? He’d make more wouldn’t he? Surely his main soul--the one still in him would sense it...”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think so Harry. If Riddle could have sensed it, he would have collected the Ring of Peverell from the Gaunt shack and moved it to a new hiding place once he left Riddle Manor... Think about it--we had already destroyed the diary and the locket...”

“...and the diadem,” Harry nodded, his eyes widening as light dawned. “You’re absolutely right Hermione. Riddle obviously doesn’t know yet that we’ve been killing his horcruxes--thanks to your senses!” Harry beamed at Hermione.

“And we got the ring as well,” Harry continued excitedly “so that means we should only have two left to kill, and one of those has to be Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. Tom was obviously after it according to Hokey the House-Elf’s memory...”

“But I haven’t a clue what the other one might be Harry,” Hermione sighed, clearly distressed that her brain didn’t have all the answers. “He must have hidden the diadem in the Room of Requirement’s Hiding Chamber the night he tried to get a teaching job from Dumbledore, and we have no idea where the last two might be...”

“YEAH!” Harry loudly interrupted, “That’s a creepy thought! Urgh--Professor Voldemort? Blegh...” Harry made a face and stuck his tongue out, drawing a giggle from Hermione. Harry grinned at having successfully cheered her up.

“Voldy obviously loves Hogwarts as much as I do, but don’t worry Hermione. There’s only two horcruxes left and we know what one of them is, that’s loads easier than trying to find six...” Harry gently stroked Hermione’s tail and she purred slightly.

Professor Dumbledore’s right--the Order of the Phoenix can probably kill Tom Riddle when he tries to have another go at me, and then we can find the last two horcruxes afterwards if necessary and finish him off for good. But in the meantime, we can all be thinking of places he might have hidden the last two and keep looking...”

“Indeed we can Harry,” the Headmaster interjected cheerfully, “Splendid! Well done, both of you! I have been thinking much the same thing. Now I am certain that I--we--are correct.”

“I have also given some further thought to Tom Riddle’s next moves as ‘Lord Voldemort’ since our discussion this morning,” Dumbledore continued. “Thanks to you both, I have a better idea of what he will likely do next.”

“I believe that he may stage some more attacks to distract the Minister and to terrify the public, but that he will most likely make a play to take Hogwarts before the end of summer, believing it largely unoccupied. I think he would like to make it his base of operations for an attack on the Ministry itself...”

Harry’s features hardened and his green eyes glittered

“That’s when we’ll get him then!” Harry said decisively.

“Yes Harry!” Dumbledore nodded resolutely, his own blue eyes sparkling.

“I know that you will want to train your abilities to their maximum potential Harry, but remember... your greatest asset is your ability to Love!” the Headmaster concluded with a wink, blushing slightly.

The two students and the Headmaster peered at each other, but none of them could maintain a straight face after that last pronouncement.

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. Fawkes ruffled his feathers and uttered a soft musical cry which sounded suspiciously like a chortle of laughter.

~o0o~

“Right then,” Harry began, his countenance set with steely resolve as he faced the rest of the Unaffiliated at dinner, “Now you all know everything that Hermione and I know. Until Tom Riddle has a go at Hogwarts, we’ll be training hard to fight. We need to be prepared...”

Harry was trying his utmost to mimic every call-to-arms and mobilisation-speech from every war film he’d ever seen, but a creeping smirk broke the effect. Hermione swatted him.

“But most of all we’re supposed to have loads of fun...” she giggled.

“Dumbledore’s Orders!” Harry grinned, and the rest of the Unaffiliated began cracking up.

~o0o~

Wide awake, Harry finished cleaning his teeth, his mind and body abuzz in anticipation of the looming future. Sleep seemed a distant possibility as trepidation and exhilaration waged a battle for his heart and soul. Fortunately, he appeared to be in good company.

Occupying his bed was a shy looking naked Dora with ash-brown hair whose breasts were already in the hands of his equally nude wife, her furry ginger tail flicking excitedly.

“Why are you still in your pyjamas?” Hermione asked Harry with a mock glare, “We've got loads of hard training to do...”