RISING FROM THE ASHES
Chapter Fourteen – The Heirloom Chamber
"Guspy does wish you'd wake, sir, her mistress will be most displeased if you misses breakfast, sir," Harry heard a squeaky voice say anxiously. He sat up and put on his glasses, finding a tea-cozy sporting house-elf hovering over him. He swung his legs out of bed, and the house-elf called Gupsy beamed at him.
"Now if only Gupsy could get the other two guests up! The spotted one just wouldn't budge, Harry Potter, sir, and the girl is awake, Gupsy knows it, but she just ignores Gupsy and keeps muttering to herself about slave labor, and Gupsy does not wish for her mistress's guests' breakfast to get cold, oh no, Harry Potter sir!" she said, wringing her hands and looking very bothered indeed.
Harry snorted, not at all surprised at the antics of his two friends, and slid his feet into his trainers. "I'll wake them, Guspy," he assured the worried house-elf.
"Oh, Gupsy thanks you!" she exclaimed, curtsying to him. Harry bowed back rather uncomfortably, still not used to being waited upon in such a fashion. "Gupsy will see you in a few minutes, sir!" and with that, she snapped her fingers and with a loud crack vanished from his room.
Shaking his head, Harry dressed quickly and exited his room, making his way down the hall until he arrived at Ron's door.
"Better not have to get Hermione to snog him again," he mumbled, and pushed open the door.
Ron lay spread-eagled on his back, tangled in the bed sheets and snoring loudly, mouth agape. Rolling his eyes, Harry tugged hard on the corners of his blankets so that Ron landed on the floor with a loud thump.
His eyes shot open. "Wuzgoinon?" he demanded blearily, mussing his hair and rolling over to face Harry. Noticing he was on the floor, Ron jumped to his feet and gave Harry a reproving smack on the arm. "What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the spot on his back where he had hit the floor.
Harry shrugged. "I didn't feel like waking Hermione first to have her snog you awake this time."
"I prefer that to falling on the floor," Ron said darkly, following Harry out of his room and picking up his traveling bag along the way.
"Breakfast is ready," Harry told him, "I'll meet you downstairs, I have to deal with Hermione and that house-elf obsession of hers."
"Want help?" asked Ron, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Yeah, actually," said Harry, surprised, "that would be great, thanks."
"Alright," said Ron, "I'll fetch Smith and have him help you." He grinned at Harry, knowing full well he would rather face Hermione's wrath alone than with Zacharias Smith.
"Never mind then," said Harry, "I'll see you downstairs."
He knocked cautiously on the door to the room in which Hermione slept. After several minutes of silence, he opened the door. One of Hermione's dark brown eyes popped open as he did so, and she peered at him cautiously.
"Oh Harry," she said, yawning and sitting up, "it's you. I was expecting it to be the –"
"Slave labor, yeah I know, Hermione," said Harry irritably. "Listen, breakfast is ready, and we really need to get a move on."
"Who prepared the breakfast?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest and furrowing her eyebrows.
Harry said nothing.
"I thought so," Hermione said stiffly, and hopped out of her bed, smoothing the covers and fluffing the pillows. "Well, Harry, I'd rather starve than eat something that was prepared by an enslaved being."
"Hermione," Harry groaned, "are you ever going to give this up?"
"No!" she shouted, and slammed the door in her face.
Harry raised an eyebrow. Since when had Hermione slammed doors in people's faces? He turned around to find Ron standing behind him chewing on a piece of toast.
"Blimey Harry," he said wonderingly, "What did you do?"
"We started discussing S.P.E.W," said Harry resignedly, "and you know how well that usually goes."
"Yeah, but I mean, it's usually me that's got her all worked up like that," said Ron, in what Harry thought to be a bit of a petulant tone.
"Ron," Harry said, suppressing a laugh with difficulty, "it's not like I'm going to take away the title of riling up Hermione from you, no need to worry!"
"I wasn't," Ron insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Uh huh," Harry replied, unconvinced. "Well, I'm going to go grab some breakfast."
"Okay," Ron replied, taking one last look at the door which Hermione had slammed so viciously, "I'll come with you."
They made their way down the staircase and took seats across from Mrs. Smith at the dining room table.
"So, are you ready to eat this delicious breakfast Guspy has prepared?" Mrs. Smith asked cheerily, spreading raspberry jam across her scone and taking a bite.
"Yes," said Harry pleasantly, "but my friend Hermione – she's, er, feeling a bit … under the weather and won't be down until we're ready to leave." He turned to face Ron, who was once again stuffing his freckled face, this time with eggs. "That should be in an hour or so," he added.
Zacharias glared at them from across the table, sullenly shoveling kippers past his pursed lips.
"Well, while you wait for your friend to feel better I'll have Zachie show you around," Mrs. Smith beamed, "we have so many intriguing artifacts, I'm sure at least one will be of some interest to you."
Zacharias choked on a kipper. "But mum," he protested, letting his fork fall onto his plate with a loud clatter, "I was supposed to go to the village with my mates today! They say there's a seer there who –"
"Well, your plans have changed, you're to show our guests around the Heirloom Chamber," Mrs. Smith said firmly, a sweet smile still fixed upon her face.
Zacharias stood, and with much griping and grumbling pushed his chair back. "Follow me," he muttered, pushing past Harry and Ron as they too got up from the table.
He led them to a giant marble staircase with golden varnish, bringing them to the third floor of the Smith estate and shepherding them impatiently into the first room on the right.
"This is the Heirloom Chamber," he said dully, sounding like an overworked museum tour guide in desperate need of a holiday, "we have sine artifacts that date back to 900 B.C. – that's before Hogwarts was founded."
A mixture of pride and arrogance was beginning to creep into his voice now – not that Harry was altogether surprised – Smith had always been the conceited sort.
"Some of them even belonged to Helga Hufflepuff herself," he added boastfully, sticking his nose in the air.
Harry looked up sharply. "What?" he asked quickly.
"Yeah," Zacharias drawled lazily, nonchalantly leaning against one of the surrounding stone walls, clearly enjoying himself now that he had Harry's attention. "Letters, jewelry, trophies…"
"Trophies!?" Ron asked eagerly, clearly catching on. He and Harry exchanged furtive looks. Could it be that one of the Smiths' trophies was Hufflepuff's cup; the horcrux they'd been searching for?
"That's right," Zacharias turned to face Ron, now eyeing the pair of them suspiciously, "but one's missing. It was stolen from my great-great Aunt Hepzibah ages ago. No one in my family has a clue where it might be, but a month or so ago we started hearing rumors that it's stashed somewhere at Hogwarts. Can't imagine what it might be doing there, but there you have it. Now have I showed you enough, or would you fancy poking around my house some more?"
"No," said Harry absently, heart pounding against his ribcage. "Thank you. We'll just get Hermione and be on our way."
"Right then," said Smith loftily, and strode off, leaving them to themselves.
"There's no need to fetch me," came Hermione's voice from the hallway. She appeared to have just arrived when Smith had left. "I'm ready. So Harry, where are we going next? I was thinking it might be a good idea to try back at Grimmauld Place, because I was doing some more research and thinking about this whole thing and I think I know who –"
"We're not going to Grimmauld Place," Harry interrupted. "We've just had a breakthrough, Hermione. Hufflepuff's Cup! It's at Hogwarts!
Hermione gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, Harry," she said breathlessly, "are you sure?"
"I better be," Harry responded grimly. "It's the best we've got. I'll contact McGonagall through a grate and see if she can arrange for a Floo Network to be opened for us.
"So … we're going back?" Hermione asked, a wide smile spreading across her round face, "we really are going back?"
"Not as students," Harry reaffirmed hastily. But yeah, we are."
"Mind telling us why that makes you so happy?" Ron interjected.
"It's just –" Hermione's dark brown eyes sparkled with excitement, and she leaned comfortably against Ron's chest. Ron, looking rather pleased with himself, slipped an arm around her. "I really missed the library," she admitted, flushing a furious shade of red.
There was nothing to do but laugh.
"So we're really going back, then?" Ron asked, once their laughter had died down.
"Yeah," said Harry, smiling fondly, "we really are."