“We found it. The one in Hogwarts. It was in the Room of Requirement. It was Ravenclaw's diadem. Ron cut it in half with the Sword of Gryffindor. So — it's just the snake now. Neville and—”
Hermione pulled him into a small tent and blocked Ron and Fred from following. “I need to check something privately,” she said. “It will just take a few minutes.”
Ron looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hermione, this really isn't — Harry's supposed to be—”
Her stomach knotted painfully as she stared up into Ron's worried face. “I need a few minutes. This is important,” she said.
Ron studied her and gave a slow nod. “Right. We'll be outside then.”
Her throat felt thick as she gave a small nod in return. “Thank you.”
She warded the entrance, turned, and found Harry's questioning face.
She drew a shivering breath. “Harry, I need you to sit down and let me check something. I know this seems like the wrong time, but I need you to trust me.”
She pushed him into a chair and rested her fingers gently against his temple, trying to rub away the dirt smeared across his face. As she studied his face, there was an aching sensation across her cheekbones, and her fingers trembled slightly.
She forced her occlumency walls into place and withdrew her hand. Her fingers were steady, and her attention surgically precise as she cast a complex diagnostic projection over him. Then she started muttering incantations under her breath, weaving an analytic web of magic around him.
She stepped back and studied his magical signature carefully. If there had been two separate signatures in the past, there weren't anymore. They had bonded almost entirely. She carefully tried to tease them apart, trying to make out which parts belonged to which, but they were conjoined and entwined.
Harry was watching her. “Hermione, what are you doing?”
Hermione ignored him, carefully watching the variance in the projections as she cast a spell on him. It had no effect. She tried several more.
She studied the magic she'd woven around him. There was painful, weighted sensation in her chest. She blinked and met Harry's eyes, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Harry — I need to touch your scar.”
“No, don't.” Harry jerked back.
Hermione's hold on his shoulder tightened until she could feel his bones through his jacket. He'd always been so thin. “Harry, I have to do this. I'm sorry, I know it's painful. You know I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgent.”
Harry wavered and swallowed as he looked up at her. “Fine. You can do it. But tell me why.”
Hermione hesitated, her lips twitching. “Let me check this first — then I'll tell you what I'm doing.”
His eyes searched her face for a moment before he gave a short nod.
Hermione muttered a spell and pressed the tip of her wand against the lighting bolt scar slicing through his forehead. The instant her wand touched the skin, Harry screamed through his teeth, his head whipping back violently as he nearly collapsed. The magical signature projected in front on him suddenly shivered and parts of it slowly turned blood red, casting into stark relief which parts of the signature were foreign. There were red tendrils twisting and tightening where they were entwined and conjoined with the larger magical signature.
It was identical to the magical signature in Hufflepuff's Cup.
Hermione jerked her wand back with a low gasp. “Oh god.”
“What is that? Hermione! What — is that?” Harry was staring at the projection before him, his face deathly pale.
Hermione felt as though she were being ground into dust inside. She parted her lips, but no sound emerged from her throat.
She forced herself to swallow and tried again. “It's — it's a soul shard, Harry. There's — there's a piece of Tom's soul inside you.”
Harry's jaw went slack, and he turned grey as he continued to stare at the projection in front of him.
Hermione swallowed, and her jaw trembled. She twisted her wand in her hands with shaking fingers. “The — the soul gets torn when the Killing Curse is used. Because of the way the curse backfired when you were a baby, a piece must have gotten severed. Normally it would be placed inside an object — but if it was just left there — it must have latched itself onto the only living thing there and tried to integrate itself with you.”
Her chest felt so tight she could barely breathe. “I'm so sorry. I should have realised sooner. I should have — if I'd realised — I'm so sorry, Harry.”
Harry sat as though frozen as he stared at his magical signature and the parasitic soul fragment that wound around and through it. Hermione's tongue was curdled in her mouth, as though she were about to be sick.
She tried to think of something, of anything. There had to be some way to get it out, to remove it without killing Harry.
Draco might have a book in his library that she could use. The Resistance would fall back and leave Hogwarts. She had to get Harry away and buy herself time to research; there might be something she could do. She just needed to get Harry away. Then she could go to Draco.
“Of course.” Harry gave a small laugh that roused Hermione from her thoughts. “Of course — that's how it is. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' I should have guessed.” He made a sound, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was another laugh or a sob. He stood up, banishing the projections around him with a flick of his own wand. Then he raised a hand and pressed the heel against his scar.
“All this time — I thought I was the Chosen One because Tom and I were similar. Half Bloods, orphans, twin wandcores, parselmouths...” His voice trailed off, and he gave a low laugh. “All this time — I thought I'd defeat him by rejecting Dark Magic and always choosing light — even when I felt like I was going mad from the draw of it. I thought that was what it was about. That it was something like that.” Harry made a choking sound. “Of course it wasn't.”
There was a silence like a stopped heart.
Then there was an agonized scream in the distance that ripped the air apart.
“Harry! We've gotta go,” Ron yelled through the warded tent opening.
Harry looked up sharply, but his eyes were far away as though he were in a dream. He looked at Hermione and only seemed to be half-aware of her. “You'll take care of Ginny, won't you? And tell Ron, afterwards, he was the best partner a bloke could ask for.”
He started towards the door, and Hermione realised with freezing horror what Harry intended to do. She flung herself in front of him, gripping his arms and forcing him to stop.
“No, Harry. No. I can fix this. We got the horcrux in Hogwarts. We'll fall back. Give me some time, and I'll find a way to remove it. I'm sure there's a way. I will make a way. Harry — Harry.” She tried to force him to look into her eyes. “You're not going to die today.”
Harry reached up and touched her face with his fingertips. He studied her as though he were memorising her. As though he hadn't seen her in years and never expected to see her again.
“You're a good friend, Hermione. You've always believed in me. Even more than I did sometimes.”
She flinched away from his touch. “We'll send word to Moody and have everyone pull out before more Death Eaters arrive. Harry — you have to let me try to find a way to remove it.”
Harry shook his head and gave a wistful smile. “He's in my head, Hermione. The connection we have, it's in my brain. There's no safe way to reverse long-term Dark Magic in the brain. That's what you said after you tried to heal Arthur.”
Hermione's fingers twitched.
“I'll find a way. I will invent it if I have to.” Hermione's voice shook with intensity. “You have to let me try.”