Chapter 13: London Bound
Three days later, they apparated to an alley outside Diagon Alley. Harry led the troop into The Leaky Cauldron and was immediately hailed by four or five witches and wizards, all clamoring to shake his hand. He nodded, exchanged pleasantries, and shook hands, always maintaining a forward momentum towards the door to Diagon Alley. It had been awhile since Harry had to deal with constant attention, and he found himself wondering how he had tolerated it for so long.
It wasn't until they reached the more private portal to Diagon Alley that Harry realized he had a protective hand at the small of Draco's back, ushering him through the crowd. It was such a subconscious action, and he chastised himself for not being more aware of it. If people noticed such an intimate touch, it could draw a lot more attention than they were prepared to deal with. Not to mention they had agreed to keep Draco as much out of the spotlight as possible. Draco's hood was drawn up, concealing the tell-tale pale hair, and he made an effort to keep his eyes down.
They were able to get lost in the crowd of Diagon Alley more easily than the quiet pub, this time Hedge walking in front to partially block the view of Harry and Draco. It reminded Harry unpleasantly of an assassination attempt by a former Voldemort supporter in the days after the war. Kingsley forced Harry to tolerate a constant guard in public until he passed his auror exam and was deemed able to defend himself. It had been lonely and humiliating.
Hedge opened the door to Ollivander's and held it open for everyone to enter the quiet and dusty shop once he swept the room. Seconds later, a young woman entered the room, glancing between them until her eyes landed on Harry. "Welcome to Ollivander's," she said with very little welcome. "How can I help the ministry?"
She was a slight woman of average height with dull brown hair. She seemed to lack the distinct spark of intrigue and passion that Harry remembered from Garrick Ollivander, the man who had sold Harry his wand when he was eleven.
"Ms. Ollivander," Harry started, stepping forward, "We were hoping you might be able to help us with some wand lore."
"Well, I am not my father, but I will do what I can. What kind of wand are we talking about?"
"Snakewood, I am unsure of the core," Harry said, tucking his hands in his robe pockets comfortably.
"Unusual material. We do not use it here."
"Why is that?"
"Snakewood is...temperamental. Some say it is stronger than elder, but it is far more difficult to use successfully. Without proper care, a wand made of snakewood could have disastrous effects."
"Such as?" Harry's eyes didn't leave the shopkeeper.
"Depending on the core, it could fluctuate in effectiveness, being very inconsistent for the witch or wizard wielding it," she said, maintaining strict eye contact, her posture straight and pristine. "For example, with a hippogriff feather, one might experience the strength of their spells varying from day to day. Or someone with a dragon heartstring core may produce stronger magic when they experience heightened emotions. It is postulated that some of the strongest magic, second only to the illustrious Elder Wand itself, would come from a snakewood wand. This is all assuming the person crafting the wand was skilled enough in the creation of said wand."
"Are you familiar with Salazar Slytherin's wand?"
"Famously, he made it himself out of snakewood."
"Do you know of its whereabouts?"
"No. I know it was passed down within the family, but it disappeared in the 1600s."
"Do you know anything else about the wand?"
"Just what the legend says."
"And what does the legend say?" Harry prompted.
The shopkeeper eyed him carefully, hesitating.
"Has someone else come asking about this particular wand, Ms. Ollivander?" Draco asked lightly.
"No. He didn't come here. But he did owl me," she said dismissively.
"Who?" Draco asked.
Ollivander shifted.
"You won't be in trouble," Harry said softly.
Shee looked at him scathingly. "I am not afraid of you, Auror Potter."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Auror, I need you to understand that I have studied wandlore extensively, though I am no historian. I will tell you the same thing I told him. As far as I am aware, the wand required a passphrase to awaken. It was said to be in a dead language."
"Do you know who might know the passphrase?" Draco asked.
Ollivander was quiet for a second, watching Draco with narrowed eyes. "I would expect the Heir does at this point," she whispered.
"Is there anyone else you told him to visit?" Harry asked.
She sighed irritably. "I recommended he go to Burke, but also to seek out Thiago Quintana in America."
"He's dead," Draco said, frowning.
"Of course. My mistake," she responded airily, unblinking.
Harry glanced at Draco before looking back at Ollivander. "Did your father use snakewood?"
"As I said, Auror, we do not use it in this family. It would not represent our skills well."
Harry glanced at Draco again, who nodded back to him silently. "Thank you, Ms. Ollivander."
She nodded curtly and swept away as they left the shop. Once outside, Draco turned to Harry. "Why didn't we just owl her?" he asked quietly.
"I want to see a few other people."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"The headmistress and a few professors, for one."
"And Alec for another?" Draco asked with a disinterested tone, his expression unreadable.
Harry hesitated, unsure why he had wanted to keep it a secret to begin with. "Yes. Hogwarts first, however." He watched Draco, wondering if he would be comfortable going back to the school that was likely not to welcome him.
"Sometime today, then, Potter," Draco said dryly, turning to apparate.
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They approached the school via Hogsmeade. Harry had sent an owl ahead to warn the headmistress of their arrival and request a meeting. As he walked up the gravel path, he gripped the vial of Snape's memory in his pocket. He preferred to personally carry it across the ocean instead of trusting it to the risky journey of an owl or other courrier.
As they walked, Draco spoke. "So is it our thesis now that the Heir intends to awaken the wand to use it as his birthright?"
"That makes sense to me," Harry replied. "Who is Quintana?"
"American wandmaker, died over a year ago."
"What makes you think he died?"
"I investigated his death," Draco said. "It was suspected foul play, but we eventually ruled it a suicide."
"How did he die?"
"Poison. Locked in a room by himself. He left a suicide note lamenting the loss of his wife several months prior."
"Why would Ollivander think he was alive?"
"I don't know. He could still be alive and his death an elaborate ruse. I suppose it is possible he took a combination of potions to make himself look dead, but it seems unlikely."
"Once back in America, we should see if we can hunt him down and find out what kind of cocktail it would require to have that effect." Harry suggested as they walked up the steps to the castle. As expected, Minerva McGonagall was waiting for them. She was just as stern and severe as she had been ten years prior, though it didn't look like she had aged a day.
"Professor," Harry greeted, genuinely pleased to see his old Head of House.
"Harry," the headmistress said with a detectable amount of warmth to her voice. She gave Harry a hug. "Mr. Malfoy," she said tightly, nodding to him. "Good to see you."
Draco tipped his head back in response. "Headmistress."
"This is Senior Auror Samuel Wiggs, and Auror Frank Hedge," Harry introduced, each shaking the headmistress' hand in turn. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."
"Of course. How can we help?"
"First, I wanted to return this." He produced the vial of silver liquid memories from his robe.
"Very good, Mr. Potter, thank you." She took the vial, storing it in her robe. "And second?"
"I would like to speak with Professor Longbottom."
"Of course. This way." She set off at a brisk pace heading towards the greenhouses that flanked the castle. Harry gazed around the grounds, filled with mostly pleasant memories. He stole a glance at Draco who maintained his blank gaze directly in front of himself. Harry guessed Draco probably didn't feel safe or content at Hogwarts like Harry did. He still considered it his first real home, afterall.
They neared the second years' greenhouse where they had once raised mandrakes. The aurors all waited outside for McGonagall to poke her head in, asking to excuse the professor for a few minutes. Once outside, Neville broke out into a huge smile at the sight of Harry.
"Harry! Good to see you!" he said enthusiastically, giving him a friendly hug and a pat on the back. He nodded at Wiggs and Hedge in turn as Harry introduced them, then merely offered a weak smile at Draco. "Are you back in London, Harry?"
"No, I am still assisting Draco on a case in America."
"Then what brings you all the way out here?"
"I was hoping you could tell us about a certain tree," Harry responded.
"Which one?" Neville asked with interest.
"Snakewood tree."
"Hm. There aren't any in Britain, that's for sure. What do you want to know about it?"
"How would you grow one?"
"Well, it would need a starter, just like any plant. They said they are very difficult to grow and kill."
"Could you grow one from a wand made of that wood?"
"Hm, I suppose. It would be difficult. The wand would have to not be dead, but I suppose if it is only wilted it could still be a starter. The core might also impact it's growing ability. Something like thestral hair would probably not work, but unicorn or Phoenix feather would potentially grow."
Harry was thoughtful for a second. "And if that wand were removed could the wand still be used?"
"If the core remained in tact, I suppose. I am not that familiar with wand-making, however."
"Would the tree die if it were removed?"
"You understand I am only guessing here," Neville cautioned.
"Give me your best guess," Harry said. He trusted Neville to have very educated guesses when it came to anything plant-related.
"Well," Neville said thoughtfully, "if the tree were planted somewhere it wouldn't normally grow, and was kept alive only due to the magic in the core of the wand...I believe it would die."
Harry nodded. "Do you know their natural habitat?"
"Australia, I believe."
"So, the cold New England snow probably isn't it's favorite habitat," Draco drawled.
Neville nodded though he didn't look at Draco when he spoke.
"Probably not. Something tells me Salazar Slytherin's wand doesn't have unicorn hair at its core, either," Harry said with a snort. "Thanks, Neville." They shook hands. "I'll be in touch."
Neville went back inside the greenhouse after he bid the others farewell. Harry turned back to McGonagall. "Is Professor Slughorn available?"
The headmistress nodded. "This way, gentlemen." As they entered the castle, McGonagall spoke: "Why are you asking after Slytherin's wand?" she asked.
"It appears it is a fascination for our suspect. I believe it will lead us to him as he tries to revive it."
"Revive it?"
"Legend says it was intentionally inactivated or wilted hundreds of years ago. A tree grew from it on the Ilvermorny grounds."
"Intriguing. So he was able to extract it from the tree?"
"Yes. Do you know anything about the wand?" Harry asked casually. He hadn't thought to ask the Gryffindor headmistress.
"I will ask Severus' portrait while you are speaking with Horace. I trust you know the way to the dungeon?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you, Headmistress," Harry said.
After she split from the group, Draco looked at Harry with a delicate frown. "How do you know where the dungeon is?"
Harry gave him a small grin. "You brought me there once."
"I most certainly did not."
"I was convinced you were the heir of Slytherin, in second year. So much so, that Hermione brewed a polyjuice potion so Ron and I could turn into Crabbe and Goyle to talk to you. We followed you to your common room."
"Granger brewed a polyjuice potion in our second year?"
"Yeah, she is pretty amazing," Harry said with a chuckle. Draco shook his head, falling into silence.
Thankfully, it was in the middle of the afternoon classes so they encountered no students on their way down to the dungeons. The potions class was just letting out when they arrived, so they loitered outside the door. Harry ignored the whispers that trailed down the hall as the students passed.
"I think I need to talk to him alone," Harry said as the last students filed out, gaping at him. Harry smiled at Draco who was glaring at every student who stared at Harry.
"Why," Draco snapped, looking back at him.
"I need to ask Slughorn a...private question."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's nothing like that. He told Riddle about horcruxes when he was in school, so I just want to ask him if he has talked to anyone else about them. He is rather ashamed about his part in Riddle's successful creation of horcruxes, so I am more likely to get him to talk to me if I am alone."
"I don't like that," Hedge piped up, speaking for Wiggs' scowl as well.
"Deal with it. The professor won't hurt me," Harry said as he turned towards the heavy door leading into the dungeon classroom. Hedge's hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place as Wiggs entered the room first, looking around. He ignored Slughorn who greeted him with confusion. After he took a good look around, Wiggs nodded at Harry who rolled his eyes before entering the room himself. The auror closed the door behind Harry and stood as a sentinel outside.
"Ah, Harry, my boy!"
Harry smiled at Slughorn as he crossed the room towards him. "Hello, Professor," Harry said, allowing Slughorn to shake his hand enthusiastically.
"You haven't written me back in a fortnight now, Harry! I didn't realize you were back."
"Sorry about that, sir. I am still on a case in America and I have been moving around a lot."
Slughorn nodded, the hand on Harry's shoulder guiding him over to his sitting room. "Well, what brings you back so soon?"
Harry sat across from the Slytherin comfortably. "Actually, Professor, I am here to see you." By now, Harry was very practiced at buttering up Slughorn to get what he needed out of him. "What I am about to tell you is regarding my investigation and it strictly confidential. I must ask for your discretion," he said ominously.
Horace puffed up his chest proudly. "Of course, my boy, I shan't breathe a word."
"Sir, before I tell you anything, what do you know about my investigation?"
"Next to nothing, of course."
Harry nodded. "Your help could be instrumental to my investigation. You see, it appears as if our suspect is trying to become the next Dark Lord. In fact, he has been staging the events that gave me my scar," he said, lifting a hand to touch his forehead. Slughorn's wide eyes followed Harry's hand before looking back into his eyes. "For reasons I can't disclose, I was hoping you, as head of Slytherin house, could tell me about Slytherin's wand."
"Well, Harry, that is quite the question. I read once that the wand was taken to America by a descendant of Slytherin."
"Really?" Harry said, feigning interested ignorance. He needed to give Slughorn a victory so he could build up to his real question. "Well, if our suspect is a descendant of Slytherin, how would he activate the wand?"
"I would assume a parseltongue phrase as Slytherin was a parselmouth. It was a very unique ability, even during his time," Horace said importantly.
"Oh," Harry responded, that actually being a new thought. "That is possible, our suspect is a parselmouth."
Slughorn nodded sagely. "It wouldn't surprise me then."
"They say that the wand will be extremely powerful. I am afraid with it he is hoping to create a horcrux for himself. I hate to ask you this, sir, but has anyone else come to you asking about them in the last few years?" It was possible while working at Azkaban Mastin could have come to visit Slughorn.
Slughorn's eyes shadowed and he frowned at Harry.
Harry held up a hand apologetically. "Sir, I hate to bring it up, I know how you feel about this subject. I only do because this may be the break we are looking for. We are just two steps behind the murderer and we are grasping at straws."
Slughorn shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Harry, but I have had no one ask me about horcruxes since the aurors after the war ended."
"You're sure?"
"Yes," he said resolutely. Somehow, Harry could tell he wasn't lying.
"Well, thank you, Professor, you were a great help," Harry said, standing.
"Oh, Harry, so soon?"
"Yes, Professor, I'm sorry. We have quite the work cut out for us. Please owl me if anything else every comes to mind." He bid Slughorn goodbye and exited the classroom swiftly.
"Anything?" Hedge asked when Harry appeared in the hallway.
"Only the suspicion that the passphrase to wake up the wand could be in parseltongue."
"That's an idea," Hedge answered. They group set off to the headmistress' office. It had been too much to hope that they could have gotten an easy lead from Slughorn, but it was worth a shot.
The four aurors stopped by McGonagall's office but found that the portrait of the former headmaster and potions professor had been less than helpful regarding the wand. Disappointed, they left Hogwarts, heading back to London.
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"Welcome to 12 Grimmauld Place," Harry said, opening the front door. He had apparated them all to the front step, aware it would keep them out of any prying eyes of anyone that may have been on the street. It was the safest place for them in London, so they decided to stay there for the duration of their trip. Harry hadn't been there much after he moved out to live with Alec, but it looked as if Kreature had kept it in fine shape.
It was strange to be returning now. It had taken Harry years after he had graduated from Hogwarts to clean out all the rooms in the house. He had discovered all manner of dark creatures and artifacts, the removal of some being rather dangerous. Eventually Kreature had warmed up to Harry, though he still lamented Harry's blood status.
"This is your house?" Hedge asked, looking down the long dark entryway hall. "It… isn't what I expected."
"I inherited it," Harry said casually as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. "It is more Draco's than mine, really."
Draco raise an eyebrow. "How so?"
"It is the Black family house, from Sirius."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "That's why it looks familiar," he muttered.
"Make yourselves at home. There are plenty of bedrooms upstairs. It's pretty obvious which is mine. Kreature?" Harry ask as he opened the fridge. The old, nobbly house elf appeared a fraction of a second later. "Master," the elf grumbled as if Harry had never been gone.
"Can you make some dinner for our guests? I am going to the Weasley's."
"Yes, Master," Kreature croaked.
"What?" Hedge asked, sounding slightly panicked. "I will go with you."
"That is hardly necessary, Frank. It's Friday night, and I survived at the Weasley's for the past ten years. I doubt they will attack me now. Besides, you are out of your jurisdiction."
Hedge frowned at Harry. "Clearly, the Heir has followed us before. It might not be safe now."
"It's fine, Frank. Take the night off. I am just going to the Weasley's for dinner, but I will be back tonight. Tomorrow morning I am going to see Alec and you cannot come with me then, either. Better get used to it." As Harry spoke, Hedge's frown deepened and Draco turned away as if suddenly interested in a dusty bookcase. "It is just for the day, then we will leave tomorrow night."
"We should at least see the locations so we can apparate there in an emergency," Frank argued. He looked at Wiggs and Draco for support.
"I am going to visit my Mother," Draco said, lifting his chin and turning away to make his way towards the stairs. "Potter can visit whomever he wishes."
Harry watched Draco's receding back carefully before turning back to Hedge. "Fine. But don't spy on me," he admonished half-seriously. "I think we could all use a day or two off."
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Harry hadn't told Alec that he was coming back to England. He surprised Hermione and Ron for dinner and had a wonderful night with them, laughing and drinking much like old times. He made Ron promise he wouldn't tell Alec he was in town, planning on surprising him the following morning.
After Hedge had apparated away again, Harry stood nervously on the doorstep of the flat that Alec and Harry had shared. It was normal for Alec to fire-call Harry every Saturday morning since Harry's recovery, so Harry knew he was home. Typically, Alec would be expecting Ron to show up to help him fire-call Harry at about this time, however, instead of Ron being at the door, he would find Harry.
He raised his fist and rapped his knuckles on the door after he felt he had steeled his nerves enough. Harry wasn't sure what Alec's reaction would be to him, but he hoped it would be a pleasant one. He heard footsteps nearing the door and stuffed his hands in his robe pockets nervously.
The door opened. "Hey, R -" Alec stopped and gaped at him a bit uncharacteristically.
"Hi," Harry said stupidly then kicked himself mentally. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Alec stepped forward and threw his arms around Harry, pulling him close.
"Harry! I can't believe you're home! I didn't know you were coming," Alec said into his hair.
"I wanted to surprise you." Harry wrapped his arms around Alec's ribs, smiling into his neck. He had missed the warmth and comfort the man offered. Harry was pretty sure he ran several degrees hotter than was normal.
"Are you back for good?" Alec asked, finally stepping back, but keeping an arm around Harry's shoulders as he steered him into the flat.
"No, we came to interview a few people for the case."
Alec looked a little disappointed. "How long do I get to see you for?" He helped Harry out of his traveling robe and hung it in the closet.
"Just today. We will leave tonight."
"Want some breakfast?"
"Sure," Harry said with a smile.
He sat down at the kitchen table as Alec started moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Harry watched him happily, still charmed by how Alec had to do everything manually. "How have you been?" Harry asked.
Alec smiled at Harry as he started cracking eggs into a bowl. "Good."
"The new restaurant space?"
"Brilliant, yeah. It's a lot of work, but it is going well."
Harry smiled at him. It was strange sitting there again, but it was awkward in the way it was when they first moved in together; they were both nervous but there was a tense excitement between them. Harry didn't feel uncomfortable or unwelcome like he had feared, and he certainly felt like he still belonged. It was like they were dating again for the first time, with those familiar butterflies in his stomach. That said, Alec appeared more relaxed than Harry was, but that was usual. It was a good sign.
At the same time, Harry didn't want to give Alec the impression that he expected anything to happen between them. He wanted it to be clear that his presence didn't change their current arrangement which Harry believed they were both still satisfied with. Simultaneously, he wanted Alex to know he still loved him and did want to attempt their relationship again if it was possible. It was a thin line to walk, but he knew that Alec was not so sensitive that he would jump to the wrong conclusions or get offended too easily.
They shared some small talk for a while as Alec fried some bacon. "Snogged any cute blokes recently?" Harry asked casually after a silence, hooking his elbow over the back of his chair as he leaned back with a smile.
Alec laughed. "No, but that may change soon," he said with a wink in Harry's direction. Harry chuckled, taking that as his cue to stand. He walked up behind Alec, wand in his hand.
"Let me help," Harry said in a low voice, tapping the grater that Alec held with his wand. Alec lifted his hands from the cheese and the grater began shredding the cheese on its own.
"How kind of you," Alec chuckled, turning to face Harry who had deftly tucked his wand back in his pocket. He reached out, taking hold of Harry's hips to pull him towards him as Harry wrapped his around Alec's neck. "Can you cut the onions when you're done with that?" Alec asked with a grin.
"Whatever you want," Harry said, raising up on his toes slightly to kiss Alec. Alec released a small, happy sigh of contentment as he kissed Harry back, holding him against his body. Harry felt a familiar warmth flow between his stomach and his sternum as Alec gingerly touched his lip with his tongue. He felt safe, content, hopeful, and incredibly aroused. When he thought about it now, he wasn't sure why he had strayed from these arms or thought that there was anything to be gained from anger and power. This was where he was supposed to be, where everything made sense.
As Alec wrapped his arms more fully around Harry's ribs, pulling him tighter against his chest, Harry felt all his other concerns melt away. With one hand tangled in Alec's hair, Harry lowered his other hand to unhook Alec's belt, and was rewarded with a gutteral chuckle from the other man. After struggling with the pants for a few seconds, Harry gave up on the belt and resorted to simply palming Alec through the fabric of his jeans. The resulting moan caused Harry to swell with want and need, his mouth now working its way down Alec's neck. Investigations, murders, politics, and suspects were the last thing in Harry's mind, considering them inconsequential and unimportant. Those things would come and go, but Alec was steadfast through all of it; he was all that mattered.
The more passion Harry poured into the kiss, the more Alec returned. His hands were soon knotted in Alec's hair, holding him as they intertwined their tongues. Alec's fingers ghosted up Harry's back under his shirt, seeking the permission Harry had already given the moment he crossed the tile floor. Harry was no longer sure which of them were moaning, but it only encouraged the warmth that spread from the touch of the fingers up his back. Soon both hands were roaming up his shirt, gently massaging the muscles of his abdomen and back.
As he pulled Harry's shirt off, Alec gave him a crooked smile, his cheeks flush. It didn't matter if Alec also didn't expect this development, that was part of what made it all the more exciting. They wasted no time removing the rest of their clothing in between passionate, desperate kisses, as if any time they spent not connected was a waste of time and breath. Breakfast forgotten, the two only got as far as the living room where they both collapsed on the couch ungracefully, Alec kneeling over Harry.
Harry lost himself to the care and devotion of Alec. Alec carefully tended to Harry in all the ways he never knew he needed or wanted. He felt no shame, no sense of regret or time, existing only in the waves of pleasure and ecstasy that flooded his body as Alec pressed into him. Harry couldn't explain why this felt more right than anything else, but he knew when he finally returned to England from America, he would fight to occupy the space next to Alec in his bed.
After he reached his climax, loud, powerful, and relentless, he smiled. The only thought Harry could hold as he descended from the incredible high was this: when Harry returned, if a man occupied the space next to Alec and he wouldn't leave, then Harry would just have to kill him.
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Harry felt better than he had in months. It was difficult to leave Alec after only spending a few blissful hours with him, but he consoled himself in the knowledge that their separation was temporary. The only thing left was to catch up with the Heir before he did anymore damage. That said, Harry had a feeling Mastin would come to them and it was just a matter of being ready when he did. They had to prepare, gaining as much knowledge as possible in order to apprehend him successfully. This meant that their first task when returning to the States was to hunt down this supposedly-deceased Thiago Quintana.
After several relatives of Quintana slammed doors in their faces, the group decided to re-assess their approach to finding the potential whereabouts of a dead man. During lunch, they decided to try the gravesite next, looking for any indication of a recent disturbance or clue. They found the grave in a New Hampshire graveyard, quiet and off the beaten path. The wandmaker had been buried amongst his ancestors, this particular plot reserved for many generations to come.
In the typical New England fashion, it was raining and cold. The four aurors sported hoods and warming charms to keep the chill at bay, but after the time it took to seek out this particular gravesite it seemed to do little good. Predictably, the grave was untouched, no sign of an unearthly upheaval in the dirt. Harry looked around an the gray and wet surroundings, stuck in the nagging feeling that they were missing something. He turned to Draco. "You don't suppose -"
"No, Potter, we are not exhuming the grave," Draco interrupted. "There is no way that would get approved."
Harry sighed, looking back down at the grave. Of course Draco was right, but that was the only way he could think to determine if the body buried there was Quintana or not. "How do we find a deadman?" Harry wondered aloud as he looked up from the grave again and turned his back to it. Frowning, he noticed a symbol carved into the back of the gravestone directly south of Quintana's grave. "Hang on," he said, stepping forward to kneel at the headstone previously facing their backs.
Carved into the stone was a triangle with a circle in the center, bisected by a straight line. It was a symbol Harry knew all too well, that of the Deathly Hallows. It was carved onto the stone relatively recently. Harry traced it with his finger, frowning. This didn't make sense. Slytherin's wand was not a part of the Deathly Hallows.
"Harry," Wiggs said from behind Harry. Harry glanced back at him before looking forward again to see where he was pointing. On the back of several headstones leading away from Quintana's grave were more Deathly Hallow symbols. They sporadically led back down the hill. Harry glanced back at his companions before he set off quickly back down the hill, following the trail of symbols.
"I don't like this," Hedge said quietly. Draco glanced back at him before looking ahead again, keeping pace with Harry. This did smell of a trap, but Harry felt they had no choice but to follow.
As they rounded a small copse of trees, it looked as if the trail went cold before Harry saw the symbol carved onto a tree. This carving looked much more fresh. Harry veered off into the trees, his wand quickly in hand. It was a collection of maybe 15 or 20 trees, though they were bushy and close together. Harry ducked under the branches of one tree and stopped dead in his tracks. The trunk directly in front of him had a small photograph pinned to it. Unable to breath, Harry reached forward, plucking the photo from the bark of the tree. A brown-haired man was pictured, bound and gagged, bleeding profusely from cuts on his cheek and neck. He was struggling weakly against the ropes that held him, looking into the camera with pleading eyes.
Mastin had Alec.
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Author's Note: Let me know if you would be interested in my posting an "Extras" chapter after the epilogue; this would explain what all the spells are, what I made up, what extra characters are actually cannon, and the research that I put into this fic. I combed heavily through Pottermore and the HP Wiki, so I did my best to keep this as close to cannon as possible (obviously ignoring a couple key things, namely the book 7 epilogue). If no one cares, I won't put out the effort, but it sure was a lot of fun doing the research. :)