Title: (Chapter 07)
Author Name: creamtea-from-FAP
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP.
Genre: Book 7. Adventure, thriller.
Main Character(s): H. D.
Beta: Anise. Some test reading by SUM.
Ship(s): Ships are touched on as part of the narrative, but the story isn't about the ships. Ships are: H/L, D/Hr. These ships: H/G, R/Hr, D/G are included – but not in a good way!
Summary: ALT BOOK 7: STORY ALREADY WRITTEN AND BEING PUBLISHED WITH FREQUENT UPDATES. FORTY CHAPTERS. What's it about? Love potions; emotional shoot-outs, expulsions, hex-fights, fist-fights, kidnappings, bank-jobs, secret weapons and castle-battles. And … DRACO!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 7
The next day – with the wedding the day after - tempers were frayed all-round. When Ron leant across to kiss Hermione at breakfast, she winced and turned her face away, still stiff with sour temper from the night before. That morning's Daily Prophet didn't help: with everything going on, Harry had forgotten to warn Ron about what the reporters thought they had heard at the garden gate and the paper was full of stuff about 'Harry and Ginny – love in the time of danger! The romance that cheers the nation – bringing sunlight to the darkest day!'
At breakfast, Fred had laughingly read out quotes with a lot of dramatic declamations and eyelash-batting.
"Is any of that true?" Mrs. Weasley was horrified. Ginny had snatched the paper off her brother. "Shut up, won't you!" Mrs. Weasley had then clattered about the kitchen as though she was expecting to find foreign spies in the bread bin.
Harry had kept his head down and frantically busied himself with his toast.
The post-owls arrived, Harry received one delivered by ordinary post-owl as hired from Diagon Alley. He tore it open.
"Anyone we know, mate?"
Harry checked the signature at the bottom and was astounded: it was Aunt Petunia! He scanned it, it began "This is a warning – I don't want you to come back!" Harry looked angrily at the line. What? – she was kicking him out now?
Fred knocked his arm, "Hey, Harry, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes are thinking of going into Healing Potions. Tanit's introduced us to a supplier who's got a line in synthetic Dragon's blood." He grew faintly rhapsodical, "I was really lucky to meet Tanit, she really understands me, you know? I knew she was special from the first time we went out for a drink together …" He took a breath of air and then got back to business, "Anyway, George and I are thinking that an endorsement from you - The Boy Who Lived – would be a real sales boost. How about it? There'd be a percentage in it for you and -"
"You two would use anyone to make money!" snapped Ron. "You even sold that Darkness Powder to Malfoy!"
"We told you, he was never in our shop! We don't even have any record of sending it to him at Hogwarts – don't you think we checked?"
"Well how did he get hold of it then, eh?" fumed Ron, "as if by magic, was it?"
"Well the good side want it too! Tonks has even bought Darkness Powder, so why don't you give it a rest!"
After breakfast Harry and Ron elected to withdraw to Ron's room. Harry found that he'd scrumpled up Petunia's message and stuffed it in his pocket unread. He yanked it out and hurled it in Ron's waste-bin. Aunt Petunia didn't want him back, eh? Well tough, she'd have to, because if nothing else he was going back for his trunk!
After a short while, Hermione came up. She stood over them, hands on her hips, "Okay, I want to know what's going on. And don't look at me like that you two, it's obvious there's something wrong. It doesn't take a genius, Harry, to see you've hardly spoken two words to Ginny since you arrived," – Harry didn't like to correct her by saying he'd actually spoken no words to Ginny, which Hermione would have known if she'd been paying careful attention. "I know you didn't go to the Quidditch Cup Final with her even though I bought you those tickets," she took in their expressions, "she told me! It was hardly telepathy! But I've heard no word that you've broken up, and now we've got all this lovey-dovey stuff in this morning's paper - what is going on!"
Harry wondered if all women looked like Mrs. Weasley when they were cross.
"Er … I thought you and Ginny weren't speaking to each other after last night?" queried Ron, knowing full-well what the true situation was between Harry and Ginny, and trying to cover for Harry.
"Stop trying to change the subject, Ronald! Of course Ginny and I are still talking to each other. She explained that she's upset because – because Harry keeps giving her mixed messages!"
Mixed messages? Harry was astounded, surely he'd given her only one message? – I'm not talking to you!
"Harry, you do still like Ginny, don't you?" Hermione suddenly sounded pained and faintly pleading.
Harry was startled. Of course he liked Ginny Weasley - well, he liked her well-enough. Besides, what else was he going to say about her in front of Ron? "Sure I like her," he said, shrugging uncomfortably.
"Then why don't you talk to her?"
"Harry can't," gabbled Ron, "er … it's not safe for her. It's the Vol - it's the You Know Who thing." Evidently Ron could bear to hear the name Voldemort, but was not yet quite up to saying it. "Well come on, it's obvious!" he persisted, attempting to protect Harry's flank. "If she's going out with him – well …" He finished brightly, as thought he'd just succeeded in knocking a coconut off a shie at the local fair, "Well, she's a target isn't she?"
"What?" Hermione was astounded.
"Well, it's true," said Harry, sensing his chance, "it's obvious isn't it? Us splitting up," he took sight of Hermione's darkening expression and hurriedly corrected himself, "I mean, me staying away from her – it's for her own good!"
"For her own good?" Hermione's tone was astonished. "It's ridiculous, that's what it is! What's the point in 'staying away' from her if no-one knows you've 'split up'?"
Harry and Ron exchanged miserable, sideways glances; that was pretty irrefutable logic.
"Well it's all over the press now," continued Hermione, calculating, "especially with this morning's hoo-ha." She brightened. 'Well, as everyone thinks you're still going out with each other, you might as well do! After this morning's reports, it's not as though Voldemort's going to believe it if he suddenly hears that you two aren't together - Death Eaters read the newspapers too, you know, there isn't exactly a law against it!"
Harry desperately looked to Ron for help.
"Look, Hermione …" Ron looked at Harry for inspiration – and found none. 'Look," Ron persisted, "Harry's 17, it's not like … Look, Mum's having enough strain as it is. Can you imagine the strain of another wedding?" Harry nearly choked. That was Ron's idea of an idea? "Most people don't marry the person they're going out with at 17 y'know!" Ron continued.
Hermione stared down at him, mouth moving as though she was shocked, but nothing came out.
"Well they don't," continued Ron, as though she was disagreeing with him when actually she hadn't said anything. "I don't see why you're so concerned anyway. She's my sister, she's only your friend. Why is it so important to you? I mean, it's not as though we haven't got that whole other matter going on. You know, that one?"
Hermione's mouth snapped shut at being reminded of the Horcruxes and she swallowed and found her voice again. "Well," she looked carefully at Harry, "so long as you're not upset about anything, I suppose …"
Harry couldn't see what that had to do with it but let it go, just happy enough to be off the Ginny-hook. As the matter of the Horcruxes had now been raised, the three of them spent the rest of the day in a war council, going over information and possibilities. Muffliato became a way of life and Mrs. Weasley was heard complaining that – of all the things I don't need right now! - she needed her ears syringed. "We should tell her it's hysterical deafness," Ron had muttered. Eventually they ended up back in Ron's bedroom, with Muffliato in full use and Unstickable Charms on the door to prevent doors having 'extendable ears'. Hedwig was outside, having a sly kip on a shady branch. Crookshanks was off in the yard, hunting mice.
Harry had a sudden suspicion and looked up at Hermione sharply, "You haven't told Ginny anything, have you?"
"About what?" she reddened.
"About the things?"
"The what? Oh, the Hor – oh, of course I haven't! For heaven's sake, what kind of idiot do you take me for?" Hermione was practically spluttering, "D'you think I'd tell her anything important?" Her face took on a slightly sour expression, "Anything you told her would probably end up in the Daily Prophet as an exclusive!" Hermione sat down, annoyed.
Harry shot an embarrassed look in Ron's direction and coughed – Ginny was actually Ron's sister! "Anyway, let's keep focused. What matters is finding those Horcruxes, but if it gets out that -"
"Actually, Harry, just to start off on the right foot, the proper Latinate plural of Horcrux is Horcuces," corrected Hermione. "The suffix 'x' is grouped under the third declension and -"
"So, if it gets out that we're looking for the HorcruXes," said Harry, about to brook no odds with the niceties of Latin –
"- yeah," pitched in Ron, "let's not get too precious, Hermione -"
" – then we'll lose our chance as Voldemort will make certain we don't get them," continued Harry. "So that means we can't tell anyone. Before he died, Dumbledore told me only to confide in you two. He must've had his reasons, so even if he's not here to explain himself, I'm sticking to that plan."
Hermione looked doubtful. "Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore couldn't possibly have meant not to tell the Order."
"He said to tell only you two."
"But – but that was before he died! I don't think he meant 'not tell' ever!"
"Professor Dumbledore didn't even tell McGonagall about the Horcruxes."
"But we can't just blindly follow orders when they no longer make any sense. After the tower incident, don't you think Voldemort would have checked his Horcruces, just to make sure he still had them? What if he already knows they're missing? What if we're excluding trained wizards and hampering ourselves for nothing?"
It was clearly a very sensible point, but Harry rejected it.
"The Professor said not to speak."
"For heaven's sake, Harry. He was tired, old and ill. That burned hand had really damaged him. What makes you think he was thinking that clearly?" Hermione's tone heightened. "There were times when he wore that Horcrux ring in public! That was hardly secrecy! What if one of Voldemort's people had seen him wear it? What if it had gotten back to Voldemort?"
Harry wouldn't listen and was adamant. Hermione looked pained, but eventually fell silent on the matter.
The next few hours were spent going over the main points. Hermione listed them on a roll of parchment and when catching Harry's aghast look – 'We can't leave a list lying about for anyone to read, Hermione!' - insisted that she would Incendio it immediately afterward. "Writing things down simply helps me clarify my thoughts, Harry! There's no point in having to remember it all as we go." She then lowered her voice so she was speaking almost under her breath, "As if you two could." There was a pause in which Harry and Ron slid each other sympathetic looks and Hermione readied herself, "Well, what are our facts? What do we know? Well," she became slightly more hesitant, "we could always share the precise wording of the prophecy?" She looked hopefully at Harry.
Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. "Might as well. We're all in this together."
Harry flung an extra-hard Muffliato at the door and two at the window, just to make sure, and then, after steadying himself, he beckoned Ron and Hermione close to him – Hermione tense with intellectual anticipation. "It goes like this," he whispered. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"
"So it's true." Ron whispered, appalled. "It's kill or be killed? … Die or commit murder …?" Ron then blinked, empty-faced with shock, "But – but how are you supposed to - ?"
How was he supposed to kill Voldemort?
How indeed. Harry looked away. He hadn't even been able to Crucio Snape that time after the tower. So how was he supposed to out-hex Voldemort? How was –
"What?" Hermione was aggrieved. "That's it? That's all there is to it? But that's …well, it's almost nonsense! For one thing there are three unspecified cases – either and 'other' – but with no firm indication that they specify the same fixed objects! That's just -"
"Stuff the prophecy." Ron shifted into a determined grimness. "Those things are all bollocks. You could go barmy trying to figure them out. Look at that one about Wormtail running off to join Voldie-pants. We were all convinced it was Sirius, and look how that turned out! These prophecies, you can only tell how they were supposed to work out after they've happened. No-one's got time to waste on deciphering that crap. May as well just get on with the job in hand and see what happens later."
"Well …" Hermione sounded as though she were still feeling her way forward on it.
Ron caught Harry's whey-faced look and glared at her, "Drop it, Hermione."
Hermione barely swallowed her outrage, "Drop it? Since when have you done the thinking for this group!"
"Drop it," bit out Ron. "Talk about something else instead."
Hermione looked livid but eventually they did begin discussing the Horcrux hunt; it quickly became clear that Hermione's way – methodical, logical – was not the same as Harry's or Ron's which was quick, going on hunches, playing on instinct …'We can just Accio them to us!' … 'Oh don't be absurd! You have to know where a thing is to Accio it!' … 'Let's brew up some Felix Felicis – we'll find them then!' … 'It would take us six months to brew and if I get it wrong it's a lifetime of bad luck! Slughorn must have started brewing that batch even before he knew he'd be a teacher!' … 'Well at least we know there are seven bits of soul'… 'Professor Dumbledore didn't know there were six Horcrux objects, he just suspected there were because the number seven is so magical!' … 'Well at least we already know what the Horcruxes are: the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, Nagini' … 'The diary, the ring and the locket are definites, and the cup is practically a certainty but we don't know that Nagini is a Horcrux! …'
Harry's jaw had clenched but Hermione continued.
"What we do know is that each Horcrux would have an associated death. We could track the Horcruces by Voldemort's murders: drawing up the names of who he killed."
"Fine! You want a list of Volder-Thingy killings?" snapped Ron, "Try Harry's Mum and Dad!"
There was a sudden, stiff silence in the room. Harry was very aware of Hermione watching him from under her brows, possibly to see if he was 'upset'.
"But I don't think they could have been Horcrux-deaths, though," commiserated Ron, quickly. "I mean, they were killed just before Voldemort was finished off, he didn't have time to make them into Horcrux-deaths. And I bet he'd already made all his Horcuxes -" he snapped a glare at Hermione – "all six of them! - by then anyway."
"Well, he could have used them as Horcrux deaths," Hermione got out, annoyed, "because there was something very strange about Harry's mother's last words and -"
"Hermione!" Ron gave a horrified half-whisper as he indicated Harry with a quick, covert jerk of his head.
"Well you were the one who brought it up!" wailed Hermione. "Why is it my fault for actually analysing it?"
"Hermione, the seven Horcruxes – well the six Object ones – were made before he came to my Mum and Dad's house that night to kill me." Harry sounded grimly decided upon it. "Let's just accept that, eh?" Hermione took in Harry's hardening expression and rather unwillingly crossed the names of his parents off her list.
Uncomfortable, Harry felt as though he ought to break the ensuing silence. "Find anything out about the Founders?" he asked. "I only got the usual: they set up the school, they had a big bust-up and Slytherin shoved off."
"Well, they developed the school," commented Hermione, primly – Harry sensed that she was just about suppressing an irritated sniff - "but a rift grew between Slytherin and the others as he wanted magical learning kept within magical families; well, that was the only type he personally wanted to teach, anyway. Salazar Slytherin presumably thought that Muggleborns were untrustworthy; it was a time of persecution against wizards and he only wanted to teach those he considered 'worthy'. Obviously Slytherin meant business, as he created the Chamber to house a weapon against Muggleborns: the Basilisk." She quoted her memory of the texts: "'The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.' Anyway, Slytherin and Gryffindor had a dispute about something, things came to a head, and Slytherin left the school."
Ron looked at her for long seconds, "So, as Harry said: they set up the school, they had a big bust-up, Slytherin shoved off."
Hermione looked exasperated, "Well I also discovered that the Houses are associated with the elements: Gryffindor with fire, Ravenclaw with air, Hufflepuff with earth and Slytherin with water - "
"Well, that'll make all the difference," snorted Ron.
Hermione's voice rose, "And if you must know," she went pink, "I discovered that Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts partly after a falling out over Rowena Ravenclaw – well," she coughed, "he had feelings for her and she didn't reciprocate them!"
Both Harry and Ron looked completely disbelieving.
"Well I read it in an ancient history of the wizards, so it must be true! It even had some very old portraits of the two of them -"
Ron scoffed, "Yeah, I can see that an in-depth knowledge of the personal lives of the Founders is really going to be the key to all this."
The hours of sniping exchanges rolled on …
'Voldemort hid the Horcruxes in places that were significant to him, so let's come up with places Voldemort might have hidden a Horcrux' …'Well, I'd just bung 'em in a bank vault, that's what anyone normal'd do.' … 'Oh for heaven's sake, Ron, how ridiculous! But what about the orphanage?' … 'The orphanage! Only you could come up with that! Thingy hated that place. Honestly Hermione, you have to take people's feelings into account you know – even if You Know Who doesn't really have any …'
Ron continued, growing more certain, "… but Hogwarts is an obvious place. It was special to him, it was place set up by the Founders …"
Harry felt a fog lift.
"Ron … you're a genius!" Harry punched the air. "It's obvious isn't it? – Hogwarts, it's got to be a hiding place! Besides, maybe Professor Dumbledore left some really important information behind? He'd leave it at Hogwarts, right? I'll bet he left it in his pensieve. If we go to Hogwarts we can get both!"
"In a pensieve?" yelped Hermione. "How absurd! He might as well have put a big arrow over it, labeled 'Snoop Within'!"
"Well, why wouldn't he use a pensieve?" snapped Ron. "All he has to do is hide it!"
Harry and Ron were excited at the thought that they'd just clearly pin-pointed a Horcrux hiding place. "And it gets even better!" said Ron. "Think about it! Thingy was mad-keen to stay at Hogwarts, he even tried to get that D.A.D.A. job when it came up again! There must be something really important at Hogwarts!" He was suddenly alight with inspiration, "The Sword of Gryffindor! We're missing a Gryffindor Horcrux and what's the only known heirloom of Godric Gryffindor – that sword! It all ties together!"
"Oh for heaven's sake," Hermione protested, "one of the first things Professor Dumbledore would have done was to check the Sword of Gryffindor. If it was a Horcrux, we'd already know it!"
"So?" Harry was not going to allow Hermione to puncture their enthusiasm. "The Professor had a lot on his mind, besides, he said the sword was safe – he didn't say it wasn't a Horcrux! It could've -" Harry stumbled for an explanation of something which did sound very unlikely, "it could've looked safe there, safe as in safe from Voldemort right now, but already been Horcruxed! Look - the sword is the only known relic of Godric Gryffindor – the Professor said so!" Harry beamed to Ron, "That's the first piece of Horcrux business after the wedding: get to Hogwarts!"
"Oh for heaven's sake, you two just want to take action – however stupid!"
"And another thing!" Ron was on a roll, "The cup! I've just remembered - Mundungus Fletcher!" He turned to Harry, "Do you remember that day in Hogsmeade when you caught Mud flogging-off Sirius' stuff and you were well-narked?" Hermione abruptly sat up even straighter as Ron continued, "He had a cup! It was absolutely ancient!"
"Oh Ron!" Hermione snapped, "trust you to bring that up!" Harry looked at her in surprise, she sounded incredibly on-edge. She seemed to steady herself, "What I mean is – the cup Mundungus had was all wrong! The cups Sirius had were fourteenth century, hundreds of years too late if one was to have been the Hufflepuff cup! And as to the sword – has either of you considered that the Ring is really the Gryffindor Horcrux? It's a man's ring, it's associated with the Gryffindor element of fire -'
"What? The ring?"
"Oh stop making stuff up, Hermione! You just don't want us to be right about the sword, that's all!"
"Making stuff up?" she snapped. "You want facts? Let's look at the most unassailable and most obvious fact that we have, shall we? The fact that the real locket was already gone from the cave, and the fact that the fake-locket had a note inside it, signed R.A.B.!"
Harry felt expression slide from his face.
The cave … The Inferi, the potion that he'd made the Professor drink …
"Honestly, Hermione," spat Ron, flicking concerned looks at Harry, "do you always have to be so utterly blunt?"
Hermione gawped, "But I'm not blunt – I …"
"You are! You're famous for it! You've got no tact, you have no idea how people really feel -"
Harry's muttered his words, "S'alright Ron, let's just get on with it."
Hermione looked disconcerted and swallowed before she spoke. "Er … you do have the fake-locket with you, don't you, Harry?"
For a moment Harry didn't move, but then he silently shifted to hoik something out of the back-pocket of his jeans: the fake-locket. He always kept it on him as a constant spur. He tossed it on to the opposite bed, to Hermione. She picked it up and stilled for a second before she opened it.
As she read out the message, for once her voice sounded rather small.
"To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B."
The room was silent for many seconds. Ron said nothing but instead watched Harry and waited; it was Hermione who actually spoke. "Well," she was tentative, even she knew that she was on delicate ground here but true to her nature she could not step back from pursuing a thing to what she saw as its logical conclusion: the note was a set of facts that must be unpacked. "I think we can deduce some things from this, if we're prepared to look at it openly." She continued in a more brisk tone, "For a start, the writer refers to Voldemort as 'the Dark Lord' and signs the note with their initials: both facts."
Harry felt his mouth press into a straight line. It was clear that Hermione had thought all this through in advance, she was patently leading them toward some conclusion she had already reached.
"R.A.B. evidently thoroughly expects Voldemort to know who he is from his initials alone," she continued, "as R.A.B. writes, 'I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret'. Plus, another fact is that R.A.B.'s theft of the locket must have been before Voldemort's fall as the note is written very much as though R.A.B. believed Voldemort was alive." She visited her list again and gave a few quick, determined strokes of her quill. She paused and then looked up, speaking as though she was leading them to an obvious deduction, "So, what does that tell us?"
"Well, I don't know about you," Harry said, blandly, "but it tells me that whoever R.A.B was, then he's dead now, that the locket Horcrux probably hasn't been destroyed, but that there could easily be someone still alive who knows who R.A.B was, and who knows where that locket is."
From the startled look on Hermione's face, it was clear that they were not conclusions she had realised.
"I was in that cave," continued Harry, "the potion in the font was as good as lethal. I think that's what R.A.B. meant when he wrote 'I know I will be dead long before you read this' and 'I face death' – he knew that getting that locket would kill him one way or another, he must've written that note out before he tried to get it. And he didn't have time to destroy the Horcrux because I saw the condition the Professor was in after drinking that stuff – it was all he could do to walk, and he was the greatest wizard who ever lived. The Professor could have lived of course if Snape hadn't -" Harry's tone became acid, but noticing how uncomfortable Hermione suddenly looked at his display of bad-temper, he collected himself and bit back his bitterness. "Anyway, I think it's a fair bet that R.A.B. died soon after taking that locket out of the cave."
"How do we know he even made it out of the cave?" Ron tentatively voiced something awful which had just occurred to him, "Those Inferi could've got him on the way out and dragged him under the lake."
"I don't think so," said Harry. "The Professor cast some pretty powerful spells in that cave. If the Horcrux had been somewhere there, I think he might have noticed."
Not unreasonably, Ron seemed very relieved that his fate was not to have to wrest the locket from the mindless, underwater grip of a hundred Inferi. Then he considered something else. "How do you know that someone else was with him?"
There was a while before Harry spoke, "Because the only way to get the locket was to completely drain the font by drinking all the potion in it. But no-one could have made themselves carry on drinking after about the third cup. After that -" his voice faltered, "after that … someone else had to force you to drink it."
Harry could feel Ron's stare upon him.
"So you see," continued Harry, his tone now very controlled, "someone else must have been there, because someone else had to make R.A.B. drink the stuff. That other person – whoever he is – might still be alive; he is the one who might know where the locket is."
"Or she," that was Hermione. "The other person might be a woman, not a man, and R.A.B. might be a woman too, so let's not refer to R.A.B. as 'he', it prejudices our thinking. Remember the Half-Blood Prince?"
Ron turned on Hermione: given that Harry was obviously upset and for pretty clear reasons, scoring points over 'he' or 'she' at this moment struck him as petty and cruel. Hermione caught his glance, "Oh don't look at me like that," she cried, "Harry said himself how much is at stake here – everything is at stake! We have to be logical in this because logic is all we have! We can't make any more mistakes!"
"Oh that does it!" snapped Ron. "I've had enough!" He mimicked her voice, "We can't make any more mistakes? – listen to yourself! You made a mistake over not believing Harry about Malfoy! That's what this is all about! Well just live with the fact that you blew it and stop trying to control everything!"
"Draco Malfoy? – I -" Hermione's words stumbled, as though she was lost for a second, then she gathered herself. "We've only got the facts. We can't ignore the obvious fact given what we know from R.A.B.'s note – that R.A.B. must have been a Death Eater!"
There was an aghast silence from Harry and Ron and then their words tumbled over each other, each boy's voice almost indistinguishable in their angry disbelief.
"A good Death Eater? That's cracked! Why would a Death Eater turn against Vol – Thingy?"
"Yeah, at the time R.A.B. made his move, Voldemort was at the height of his powers! He was winning!"
"R.A.B. must have been someone Voldemort knew!" Hermione's voice was high and shaking but she would not back down. "He called Voldemort 'The Dark Lord' – only Death Eaters call him that! He expected Voldemort to know him by his initials alone!"
"The only initials Death Eaters have is B.A.D.!" snapped Ron.
"You two won't see it because you just don't want to!" she cried. "You just won't accept that a Death Eater could turn their back on Voldemort and be a hero!"
Before he knew what he was about, Harry suddenly found himself looming over Hermione, his face contorted, "And Snape is the absolute proof that we are right! He fooled everyone for years but then he murdered the Professor! You're wrong Hermione! WRONG! Just admit it! Stop causing trouble and just accept the fact! JUST SEE IT OUR WAY AND STOP TRYING TO BE CLEVER!"
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and for a second her face was all eyes. Harry took a confused, half-step back. In that pause, Hermione lurched to her feet, freshly angry. "Make Felix Felicis?" she raged at both Harry and Ron, "I wouldn't even try making Wit-Sharpening Potion if I were you two! Especially without your Half-Blood Prince to help you!" She shot a scathing glance at Harry, evidently Harry's falsely-earned reputation as a potions-whizz still rankled. "Knowing you two, you'd mix it up all wrong and end up with Wit-Dulling Potion - you'd end up stupider than Crabbe and Goyle!" She stalked out, shoving past both of them as she went.
In the sudden quiet, Harry and Ron slowly caught each other's eye. They heard a door slam below. In the reverberating silence each lad began to feel slightly ashamed at how he had behaved in shouting her down, but Hermione was no longer there to apologise to; there was just a gap where she used to be.
As night drew in, Harry and Ron uncomfortably circled about the house, trying to talk to Hermione without actually going through the motions of having to apologise. Hermione was having none of it and kept stalking off. At one point Harry saw her talking animatedly to Ginny, with Hermione firing off nasty looks at he and Ron.
Harry felt uneasy. He kept recalling how Malfoy had tried to ditch the Death Eaters on the tower-top. He hadn't told Hermione that – she didn't know Malfoy had tried to change and that it sort of proved her point. Malfoy had tried to turn, even at the point when he'd been at his most powerful, even at the point when he'd held the Professor helpless and all he'd had to do to cement his position was carry on going. But … that didn't count! Harry was very firm with himself. Draco Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater! Well – not a real one! He was just some stupid boy who had gotten in over his head!
Harry wouldn't have it that there could be a hero Death Eater, one who had turned – not a proper Death Eater, not one like Snape.
Dinner, when it came, was as uncomfortable as it had been the night before.
Afterward, Harry huddled in a chair by the fire. Far away in a corner he could see Ron and Hermione holding a hissed, vehement conversation. Hermione hissing and vehement while Ron grinned queasily and tried to make it seem as though they were having a conversation.
'Er … Mum's hunting out all the spare old wands in the family. Seeing as Ollivander's not here anymore do you want old Uncle Bilius' as a spare: oak with Unicorn hair?' … 'Oh don't be absurd! I'm vine around a dragon's heart-string – haven't you noticed!'
Harry scanned the room and saw Ginny looking at him. Catching his eye, she gave a nervous, tentative half-smile and made an uncertain move toward him.
He was out of his seat, across the room and off upstairs to bed before she could even come close.
"She's barmy."
"Which one: your Mum, your girlfriend or your sister?"
Both lads lay morosely on their beds, staring up at the low, slanting ceiling in the dark. They could hear the ghoul half-heartedly moaning overhead. "Never mind him," said Ron, "he's a bit upset, what with the pressure of the wedding and everything. Thank God it's tomorrow – it'll be like a storm finally breaking. I don't know what's gotten into them, especially Ginny and Hermione; it's like they're waiting for an axe to fall."
"Is Hermione okay now?" Harry's voice was tentative.
"Just about; she gave me earache for half an hour. Apparently, now she's my girlfriend 'I don't treat her the way I used to'. Truth is, I think the real problem is that I still treat her exactly the way I used to, and that's what she doesn't like. I think she needs us 'going out' to feel special – but how can it be when we're the same people we always were?"
Harry shifted and propped himself up on his elbow; through a faintly dirty window and his own short-sightedness he viewed the huge, marquee tent which had been magically erected in The Burrow's paddock for the Reception. There was a paddock for Thestrals too, as wizards would be traveling from all over. The whole was protected by anti-Muggle charms, Secret Keeper charms, and Invisibility Barriers. It looked a very impressive affair. He wiped the grimy film from the window for a better view. "I know it might be a sore point, Ron, but I don't get it, how are your mum and dad affording all this stuff?"
Harry knew that the Weasleys were not poverty-stricken, but they were strapped for cash.
"Er …" Ron looked across at Harry and suddenly shifted uncomfortably. "Well, see, we got the loan of the Hogwarts house-elves, but mostly because … Look, don't lose your rag mate. Honest, the only reason I didn't tell you was because -"
Harry felt weary, "Just spit it out, Ron. Compared to what we've had so far, how bad can it be?"
"Well … me, Bill, Dad, all us blokes in the family really, we all think it's a rubbish idea but …" Ron swallowed and pushed the rest of his words out in a rush as though they would somehow be less shocking if he could just cram them all together. "We can afford the posh wedding mostly because Mum's persuaded Bill and Fleur to accept a deal from the Daily Prophet giving exclusive reporting rights on the Reception."
"What?" Harry shot up and turned to Ron.
"Yeah, that's right," Ron steadied himself to deliver the words even he couldn't really believe, "Rita Skeeter's got an invite to the wedding."
