Chapter Twenty-Six: Fellowship Broken

"Ron, please take off the locket," said Hermione. "I…I don't think it's safe to wear…"

"It's no more dangerous than running about the country-side, is it," sneered Ron. "Here I am, freezing my backside off every night, nothing good to eat, and then you two get all jolly about having another damn thing we've got to figure out."

"That's enough, Ron," said Harry, standing between him and Hermione now.

"A little touchy, are we?"

"What's your problem, Ron?"

"We've been running up and down the country for weeks," he said viciously. "I'd thought we'd achieved something by now. All we've done is move from place to place each day and endlessly talk about the places You-Know-Who hid his soul bits and we're no closer than we started."

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," said Harry. He balled his hand into a fist but resisted the urge to swing at him. He knew the Horcrux was making Ron's thoughts more explosive; Harry could feel his own rage erupting in the presence of the locket.

"Yeah, well, so did I," said Ron, "but that's nothing new, is it? Stupid Ron Weasley; always in the dark—that's me."

"And what so far isn't living up to your expectations, Ron," asked Harry. He could feel his own anger boil in his chest, spurred on by the Horcrux. He kept calm though, using all the willpower and determination he possessed. "Did you honestly think we'd be fining a Horcrux every other day or that we'd beat Tom by Christmas?"

"I thought you knew what you were doing," shouted Ron, rising to his full height, his face turning as red as the hair on his head. "I thought Dumbledore told you what to do…that you had a real plan!"

"Ron, stop it," said Hermione, her voice cracking.

"Sorry to let you down," said Harry, this time looking down at his feet. He felt Ron's frustration too. He could hear the blood rush in his ears from the frantic pacing of his heart. Then he heard it; a detached voice from the locket.

He doesn't believe you…

"I told you everything Dumbledore told me," said Harry, grinding his teeth. "I've been straight with you from the beginning—"

He doesn't appreciate the success you've had…

"—and in case you forgot, we've found one Horcrux—"

"Yeah, and we're about as close to destroying it as we are to liberating house-elves, aren't we?"

"Ron," said Hermione, her voice dropping several octaves. "Ron, think what you're saying…you're not yourself…please, please take off the locket...you don't know what you're saying..."

That's not true…he's been unhappy from the beginning…he didn't want to come…

"Yes he would," interrupted Harry. "He hasn't stopped complaining since we left the Burrow."

"You'd complain too if you had a family to worry about," snapped Ron. Harry grimaced.

"My family's dead, Ron," said Harry with a dangerous hiss in his voice. He was livid beyond the point to expression. He wanted to hurl his fist into the sneering face of his best mate.

Is he your best mate?

"And mine could be going the same way," shouted Ron, not at all bothered by his enraged insensitivity. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you? Oh it was all good and well when she was your girlfriend, wasn't it, Harry? Now that you've had what you wanted and decided it wasn't good enough, you can't be bothered."

He has no idea how much you care…

"What," responded Harry, "You think I don't care about Ginny, or your mum and dad, or Fred and George?" The truth Harry had struggled so hard to contain threatened to pour from his lips. He was ready to die for every one of them.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," replied Ron with an accusatory finger to Harry's chest. "Didn't you hear what they said? The Weasleys don't need another kid injured, did you hear that?"

"I heard it."

"Didn't bother to wonder what it meant, though?"

"Ron," said Hermione as she pushed her way between Harry and Ron, "think about it…Bill's already scarred; plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed at home…I'm sure that's all he meant—"

"Right then," said Ron, giving Hermione a look Harry had once seen before; the very look Ron had given him back in the Gryffindor Tower dormitory the night his name came out of the Goblet—loathing and self-indignation. "Well, I won't bother myself about them, then. Since you're sure that's all he meant. It's all right for you—your parents are off to Australia, safe and sound."

Hermione burst into tears.

"Ron, apologize to Hermione, now," bellowed Harry. "You know she had no choice."

"She had every choice," said Ron. "She made the same choice she always does."

"Ron…take off…the locket…p-please."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," asked Ron who now sported a devilishly smug gleam in his eyes as though he'd just discovered a miraculous secret that far superseded Hermione's hurt feelings. "Clever, brilliant Hermione wants me to take the locket off because she thinks she knows best. But I know something you don't…something you don't want me to know."

"Ron, please," pleaded Hermione.

"I watch you when you don't think I'm looking," he said with venom in each word. "I've seen the way you look at him," he added with anguish in his voice and a sharp nod to Harry. "You couldn't help throwing yourself into this wild goose chase, could you? Not if it was for him."

"Ron, please, take off the locket," cried Hermione. "Please…it's twisting you…"

"You're wrong," said Ron. "You're upset I finally see the truth that brilliant Hermione Granger couldn't hide. You heard Dean; she'd follow him to the grave…" He turned his gaze to Harry with utter hatred blazing in his eyes.

"That's rubbish, Ron," said Harry defiantly.

"I wanted to go back to Hogwarts. But she," his eyes darted to Hermione and back again to Harry, "wouldn't have it. If she cared half as much about me as she does for you we'd never have been here in the first place."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Search me."

"Go home, then," said Harry, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "Go home to mummy and daddy." Ron lunged forward and Harry reacted. Before either of them could draw their wands though, Hermione had already raised her own.

"Protego," she cried, and an invisible shield formed between them, Ron on one side and she and Harry on the other. The spell forced them backward with a mighty hurl, sending Ron to his buttocks while Hermione was pushed into Harry, but they remained standing on their feet. Ron staggered to his feet. Hermione did not release the spell and the three teens simply stared at one another for a long while, each aware that something had broken between them.

"I'm leaving," said Ron after a while. "I'm going home."

"Leave the Horcrux," said Harry. Ron gave him a twisted smile, then unceremoniously lifted the chain over his head and tossed the locket to the wood floor. He turned his gaze to Hermione; Harry saw the longing in his eyes.

"I take it you're staying?"

"Of course I'm staying," said Hermione, her eyes flashing with anguish. "We told Harry we were coming with him…that we'd help him...we both did, Ron."

"I was right," he said, frowning this time. It was the first time he had shown any sadness that evening. "You choose him." And before either he or Hermione could say anything, Ron stormed out the tent and into the forest. With a quick flick of her wand, Hermione wordlessly released the shield charm and followed Ron into the darkness. Harry however, remained still and silent. He listened to Hermione's cries as all the anger in his chest faded. He could still feel the pull from the discarded locket on the floor, but the voice had left once Ron had exited the tent. The reality of the moment crashed upon him in waves now; Ron had left.

Harry picked up the locket and quickly slipped it inside Hermione's handbag without care where it landed. He closed his eyes and readied himself to do what he knew must be done. He stepped out of the tent and spotted Hermione several yards away, her knees buried into the frosty leaves of the forest floor. She was hunched over, her face hidden in both hands as she wept. Harry approached quietly, unsure how she might react. As soon as he reached her side she looked up at him, eyes bloodshot and full of tears. Harry kneeled down and held her. He felt her body stiffen but she didn't push him away.

"He's g-g-gone," she said through dry sobs after a while. "He's D-Disapparated!"

"I know," he whispered. Now that he was away from the Horcrux, the fog of his anger had cleared and his thoughts were once more entirely his own.

"I shouldn't have told him to leave," said Harry.

"No, you shouldn't have," she said.

"He'll come back," he said, but knew in his heart how empty those words were likely to be.

"I don't want him too."

"You don't mean that."

"What if I do, Harry?"

"You know the Horcrux made him say those things."

"But they were still his thoughts—don't make excuses for him. It hasn't been easy for any of us—we've all had similar thoughts—but he chose to act on them. He left, Harry. He left me. He left you. For what, a better meal, a more comfortable bed, to pretend the world is better than it actually is? Damn him and his selfishness."

"I'm the one who told him to leave, Hermione," said Harry. "If anyone's to blame tonight, it's me. He was right; we've hardly made any progress and we're no closer to stopping Tom than we were when we left Grimmauld. And he's worried about his family."

"And I'm not," she said indignantly. Harry dropped his head.

"Don't even think about it, Harry," she said seeing his reaction.

"But it's true, isn't it," he asked. "I don't have parents to worry about, do I?"

"You worry about everyone."

"And yet, none of this would be happening if it weren't for me," he insisted. "We wouldn't be in this musty old tent, on the run, looking for Horcruxes if I had only died at Godric's Hollow."

"Don't say that," she said with sharp intake of air.

"And you and Ron might still be…"

"Ron and I were never going to work, Harry," she said vehemently. "I told you ages ago."

"And you wouldn't have had to send your parents away," he continued as though not having heard her. He met her gaze and said the painful truth. "Go home before it's too late, Hermione—find your parents—find Ron—that's all that matters."

He couldn't hide it from himself; Dumbledore had left precious little. Harry wanted to rage at the headmaster, only to remember that Dumbledore himself had known little more than he did. They had journeyed together those many nights through the mire of guesswork and only appreciated the difficulty of the task once Harry had attained Slughorn's memory. Hopelessness washed over him. He had been presumptuous to accept his friends' offers to accompany him on this long, difficult, now seemingly pointless journey. He knew nothing more than he had already shared. Now he braced his heart for the words he knew would come next, that Hermione too had suffered enough and was leaving.

"No," she said. "I've told you time and time again. I'm staying, Harry."

"It's alright, Hermione," he said. "You've been brilliant—you don't need to worry about me anymore—and I can't ask anymore of you."

"You're incredibly thick; I've had ages to walk away if I had wanted too. I'm staying, Harry."

"What happens if we fail?"

"We might," she conceded. "But you won't be alone."

() () ()

When Harry woke the next morning he found himself looking to the bunk Ron had slept in, hoping the night before had only been a terrible dream. But as his eyes fell upon the vacant bed, the truth sunk in.

He's gone, he told himself. He's gone and he's not coming back. He knew that once they vacated their river-side camp that the protective enchantments would make it nearly impossible for Ron to find them again. They ate breakfast in silence. Hermione looked as miserable as Harry felt; her eyes were puffy and red and looked as though she hadn't slept. They packed everything away not long after, magically collapsing the tent back into Hermione's beaded hand bag and erased any evidence of their recent disturbance of the forest floor where the tent had rested.

They waited for more than an hour, exposed without any protective enchantments, hoping beyond hope that Ron might emerge from the trees. The muddy river beside them churned and sprayed over exposed and jagged boulders. A chill breeze would catch the excess spray and occasionally hit their faces.

"We can't wait any longer, Harry," she said finally. She took Harry's hand and immediately he felt the strong naval pull over his abdomen. They reappeared moments later at the top of a windswept hillside overlooking a dead field. The frosted-ground crunched beneath their feet. Harry erected the tent as Hermione once more enacted the numerous protective enchantments. He felt incredibly exposed on the hillside despite all the protections.

Each night, he and Hermione would once again rehash the possible locations of Horcruxes with little new ideas. They would discuss the sword and where Dumbledore may have hidden it, but Harry would bring the conversation to an end when he remembered what Dumbledore had told him: The sword belongs to no one and will present itself as it always has; to a worthy Gryffindor in a time of great need.

They had taken extra care this time with the locket Horcrux; not only was it stowed inside the Mokeskin pouch at the bottom of Hermione's handbag, Hermione had added several charms over pouch, including a notice-me-not charm, which helped combat the sometimes overwhelming desire to wear the locket. When Harry had found himself looking for it one afternoon, he remembered the odd sensation of his thoughts forcibly pushed into another direction and he would leave the handbag undisturbed for the next several hours, occupied by some menial task that seemed far more important than it was. Hermione was the least affected, Harry noticed, but she too found herself eyeing the handbag with a hungry expression. Despite the pull they felt from the locket, their mood had improved dramatically.

Occasionally, a surprise visit from Phineas Black would disrupt their roulette with the Horcrux. He would drop non-descriptive hints about the current happenings at Hogwarts, though he was a poor informant. They gathered that Neville, Luna, and Ginny appeared determined to resurrect Dumbledore's Army and put up a low-level resistance against the regime change that had fallen over the castle. Professor Black however, would say nothing of Snape, unless it was to praise him and the fact that a Slytherin was again head of the school. Anytime they would ask prodding questions about the headmaster, Phineas would leave his portrait without word and would not return for several days. Hermione was equally ruthless; whenever Phineas would inquire about their whereabouts, she would pull the portrait from the wooden column in the middle of the tent and stuff it into her handbag. Eventually, both parties came to a silent understanding and neither asked the question that burned most prudently on their mind.

As the weather grew colder, they elected to move further north where they now had contended with snowfall, sleet, and sometimes freezing rain. As December arrived, Christmas trees could be seen in several homes, their twinkling lights visible from sitting room windows. They no longer moved from place to place every night. With winter now upon them, they both felt the harsher weather would give them some leniency with the snatchers they had seen far more commonly in the south of England. One night, under the disguise of Polyjuice Potion, they chanced an actual meal at the town's local diner, finding a quiet table for two in a dark corner.

With full stomachs and feeling a bit of the season's cheer despite everything, they retreated to the tent with high spirits. Hermione curled up in one of the chairs and pulled out the children's book Dumbledore had left her, determined to find something hidden within its pages. Harry though had something else on his mind and hoped Hermione would be receptive.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been thinking. I—I want to go to Godric's Hollow." He braced himself, ready for the same argument as before: You-Know-Who would surely expect you to go there, or he knows how much that place means to you.

"I think you're right," said Hermione, her eyes still darting back and forth over the book. "I don't think we'll find a Horcrux there, but—" and she reached over to her handbag and shuffled around until she withdrew a book Harry knew very well, though he hadn't looked at it since his first year of Hogwarts: A History of Magic.

"—seeing as Godric's Hollow is where Godric Gryffindor was born, it only makes since we'll find it there."

"Really," asked Harry, leaving his chair to look over Hermione's shoulder.

"Here," she said, quickly parting the pages in large sections until she found the place. She handed him the book. Harry took it and sat down, reading the short entry.

When the International Statute of Secrecy went into effect in the later-half of 1689, the magical community elected to go into hiding for good. For the rest of the 17th century, wizards and witches banded together to form small communities within already established Muggle settlements. The villages of Tinworthin Cornwald, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire, and Otter St. Catchpole on the south coast of England were among the most popular settlements for Wizarding families to call home. However, Godric's Hollow, the West Country village where the great wizard Godric Gryffindor was born is perhaps the most famous of all half-magical dwelling places in Britain. The graveyard contains the names of Britain's most ancient magical families as well as the notable Wizarding smith, Bowman Wright, the wizard who forged the very first Golden Snitch.

Harry looked up and found Hermione watching him.

"You think the sword could be in Godric's Hollow," he asked her. Hermione nodded.

"I don't think it's a far stretch to believe that Dumbledore expected you to make the connection," she said. "And that's not all. Bathilda Bagshot lives in Godric's Hollow. And Bathilda knew Dumbledore's family, Harry. And yours too." Harry remembered the letter.

"That's right, I forgot—the letter." He had left his chair and started pacing in a circle around the sitting room. "Mum wrote that she came and visited sometimes over tea—told her stories about Dumbledore—but part of the letter was missing."

"Harry, I think Bathilda might have the sword," she said.

"You might be right," said Harry. "But what if it isn't? Dumbledore said it would present itself in a time of need."

"That's true," she said. "But that doesn't mean Dumbledore didn't give her the sword for safe-keeping. And we've had need of it for some time now, haven't we?" Harry conceded.

"So it's settled then? We go to Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes, but we shouldn't go without a plan," said Hermione. "I still think it's a risk to go there—You-Know-Who might have placed lookouts or any other number of detection spells or traps. But hopefully we're right and we won't run into trouble. We'll need to practice Disapparating together, and you could use a little work on you Disillusionment Charm. We should probably go under Polyjuice Potion as well."

"I can't go like that, Hermione," he said, finding his voice. "I know it's a risk…but I can't go like that…it's—"

"—home." She looked up at him with misty eyes.

"Yeah," was all he could say back.