Chapter 357

"So, your and Snape's plan is that someone needs to storm the Ministry and kill Nagini—and you recommended me for that role?" Neville said, lips pressed tight, but Harry could see the upward curve of his mouth.

"That's right. Snape agreed." Harry recalled the scene of his conversation with Snape, describing his plan, "He has great faith in your abilities, and he already had this in mind—he was the one who suggested Arnold assign you to intern at the Department of Mysteries."

"What about you? Will you come with me?" Neville asked.

"Yes, me and Ron—we're going together." Harry said, "We strike next Friday afternoon. Snape still needs time to contact other allies, and Friday evening is when the Ministry is most lax."

"The three of us, going into the Ministry…?" Neville rubbed his chin, "This is a covert operation, not a frontal assault, right?"

"Exactly. A deeply covert operation—so covert I can't even tell Zhang Qiu." Harry lowered his voice, "Once we break in, we have only twenty minutes. After that, Snape will arrive with a large contingent of officials."

"Sounds plenty of time." Neville calculated, "We might not be able to defeat Nagini head-on, so I plan to use the Time-Ascension Spell to kill it. If we do, we might only need three minutes."

"Then the rest of the time, we can search for that weapon." Neville glanced at Harry, "With your help, we might have a better chance."

"All that's fine, but Nagini is the most important." Harry said, "Normal methods might not kill it—it's been made into a Horcrux."

"Won't Godric Gryffindor's Sword work?" Neville asked.

"Probably not. Things capable of destroying Horcruxes are exceedingly rare—our only options are basilisk fangs or Fiendfyre." Harry explained.

"Fiendfyre!" Ron blurted out, "We'll burn down the entire Ministry!"

"And we must keep the corpse intact." Harry pointed downward, "Best method: when it opens its mouth, you cast the Time-Ascension Spell, then drive a basilisk fang into its mouth."

"But Nagini itself is a snake—what if it's resistant to venom?" Neville pondered.

"If that doesn't work," Ron pointed to the bronze box on top of Harry's cabinet, "What about the Seven Sins?"

"The Seven Sins?"

"These alchemical blades were forged with Fiendfyre—they can destroy Horcruxes too. Donald told me that last time." Ron said, slightly proud.

"No, wait—you remember that painting? I'm worried that, like in the painting, when you cut off its head, it'll turn to ash." Harry sighed helplessly.

"We need the corpse intact, right?" Neville's face darkened, "Maybe I should try first with Godric Gryffindor's Sword."

"But that won't destroy the Horcrux." Ron said.

"Right—that's exactly what I'm wondering: does 'can't destroy the Horcrux' mean I can't cut through its skin at all, or that even if I sever its head, it won't die? Or maybe the Horcrux doesn't care whether the vessel dies—I could kill Nagini by decapitating it, and the Horcrux's nature keeps the body intact?"

If the Horcrux isn't destroyed, will it affect Grindelwald's spell? Harry's head throbbed—this Horcrux had become the one flaw in his plan.

"Maybe we can test it—try everything." Neville suddenly said, "Do we have any existing Horcruxes? Preferably living ones?"

Harry nearly said, Why don't you just cut me and see?

"Hey! The Diadem!" Ron suddenly smacked his forehead, "If we can destroy the Horcrux while preserving the Diadem's original function, wouldn't that solve it?"

"Oh, how did you think of that?" Harry blinked in surprise.

"Donald told me—he said the Order of the Phoenix already knew. Didn't anyone mention it?" Ron blinked, "The Diadem should still be hidden in the Room of Requirement."

"Let's try tomorrow—it's too late tonight." Harry checked his watch, "We've finished our exams anyway—we've got all the time we need."

The three fell silent and lay down to sleep. Harry felt uneasy—he'd suggested waiting until tomorrow because if they couldn't get the Diadem, he'd be unable to sleep at all tonight.

The next day, all fifth-year students in the castle were celebrating, but when Harry, Ron, and Neville descended into the Chamber, they found Zhang Qiu there too.

"Prototype cartridge…" she rummaged through the large TV cabinet, muttering Chinese Harry didn't understand.

"Oh, Harry, here to see me?" She hid a game cartridge behind her back, cheeks flushed.

"No, we're here for the basilisk." Neville shrugged, then walked toward the giant basilisk corpse.

"Why are you looking for it?" Zhang Qiu paused, then realized, "For the Horcrux?"

"Yes," Harry said, "We're wondering if there's a way to destroy the Horcrux while preserving the object's original function—or vice versa: disable the object but leave the Horcrux intact."

"That's easy—Avada Kedavra." Zhang Qiu said casually.

Neville halted his steps toward the basilisk. All four stared at each other.

"Can that work?" Harry asked cautiously, "There's no theory saying Avada Kedavra can destroy a Horcrux…"

"But there's practical proof—or rather, it just works." Zhang Qiu said, "Anyway, if you want to get rid of your scar, go to my Master—he'd be happy to help."

"So if we cast Avada Kedavra on the Diadem," Neville said, "Since the Diadem can't be killed, the Horcrux fragment would be purged?"

"Your casting might be weak." Zhang Qiu shrugged, "But if you want to use the Diadem, you don't need to wear it—just cast an Inspiration Charm on yourself."

"Thanks anyway." Neville glanced at Ron, "Let's go test the Diadem first."

"Then," Harry looked at each of them in turn, "I'll help you look—what are you missing?"

"The Chronicles…" Zhang Qiu said offhandedly, "No, never mind—it's just a game cartridge. Go do your important work."

Harry turned away, slightly embarrassed.

On the stairs, Neville lowered his voice seriously: "Zhang Qiu said our casting might be weak—that's true. None of us have ever used Avada Kedavra."

"Well, Avada Kedavra requires murderous intent—I think we can manage it against Voldemort." Harry took a deep breath, "Think about it—he killed my parents. I've always wanted him dead."

Neville gave him a complex look, then sighed, "But my grudge with him… well, strictly speaking, I hold a grudge against the Death Eaters as a whole. Voldemort was just the one pushed forward—a mad terrorist."

"Just find the Diadem first, then both of you try." Ron muttered, "Donald told me it's on top of a big, bubbly cabinet, next to a bust of an old man covered in freckles—the Diadem's on his forehead."

When they finally entered the room, they found it as large as a cathedral—stacks of items hidden by generations of students formed towering walls, starkly contrasting the empty Chamber.

"Only Donald could think to hide it among all this junk," Ron passed a troll specimen, "Voldemort couldn't find it—and neither could I."

"You've got it backward." Harry remembered—when Luna first found the Diadem, it was right here, "Voldemort hid it here—and only Donald could find it."

"Let's split up," Neville suggested.

They separated along adjacent corridors. Harry heard his companions' footsteps echoing through the towering piles of junk—bottles, hats, boxes, chairs, books, weapons, brooms, bats…

Harry walked deeper into the maze, straining to recall where Tardis had brought him last. Suddenly he saw something familiar—a rusted set of manacles, lying in an open, broken crate. Memories surged—he looked to the right floor, and the unmistakable square imprint of Tardis's visit appeared before him.

He followed the path toward where he'd last seen Luna. At the third corner, he immediately saw a bubbly cabinet—and atop it, a wizard's bust wearing a dusty old wig and an ancient, faded crown-like object.

As he approached, Harry called out for Ron and Neville. He carefully lifted the bust and placed it on the ground—he felt his scar throb strangely, and an urge to put on the Diadem rose within him.

"Alright, let's try." Neville nervously drew his wand. Harry drew his too, while Ron stepped back.

"We're casting Avada Kedavra—to kill Voldemort's soul fragment." Harry took a deep breath. Neville gripped his wand tightly.

"Yes, we know the incantation—we just need to make sure the wand tip is aimed at the plaster bust." Neville swallowed hard, "Who goes first?"

Harry tried to summon murderous intent—but it wasn't easy. He had to clearly envision killing a person—even if only one-seventh of one, even if it was Voldemort, his most hated enemy—Harry's lips grew dry, his palms slick with sweat, and he couldn't bring himself to speak.