"Protego!" Harry shouted, and two separate Shield Charms burst from his two wands in either hand. He wheeled around to face his attackers, but as he did so, there was a deafening CRACK as the Shield Charms collided with the marble slabs suspended in midair, shattering them and sending millions of shards shooting out across the darkened grounds. Harry flinched at the noise, but recovered quickly, squinting through the darkness. He could see three darkened figures staggering backwards from the force of the two Shield Charms.
Without thinking, Harry began fixing hexes with both of his wands. The three cloaked figures recovered in time to block his first volleys, but a Stunning Spell knocked one of them to the ground. Harry blocked a flurry of jinxes from a second figure before hitting them with a perfect Body-Bind Jinx and sending them to the cold ground as well. He wheeled on the third figure, ready to strike—
"Easy there, Potter!"
Harry froze. He recognized that voice. He lowered his wand as the third figure did the same. The mystery man walked forward until Harry could see his face clearly in the pale moonlight.
"Robards?" he asked, bewildered.
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Robards.
"I…" Harry stammered, unsure of how to respond. He glanced at the other two figures lying immobile on the ground. He and Robards walked over to them and revived them; an annoyed Proudfoot and Jasper picked themselves up from the ground.
"Nice fighting there, Potter," Proudfoot said begrudgingly. "You'll have to teach me that double Shield Charm trick sometime."
"Why...what...how did you know I was here?" Harry asked.
"McGonagall asked us to watch the tomb until she can get proper protective charms around it," said Robards. "Proudfoot saw you from afar and called for backup. You didn't get the alert?" Harry saw the golden bracelets on each of the three Aurors' wrists.
"Left mine at home," Harry muttered. "Not on duty tonight—"
"Neither were I or Jasper, and we got the call," Robards chastised him. "Start wearing yours more often. And I must ask again, what are you doing here?"
"It doesn't concern you," said Harry hotly.
"Like hell it doesn't. What possible reason could you have for breaking into Albus Dumbledore's tomb?"
Harry wracked his brain for an excuse to give them. As he did so, the three Aurors wheeled around to aim their wands at two figures emerging from the darkness: Filch, carrying a lantern ahead of him, and McGonagall, scurrying along behind him.
"What on earth is going on here?" McGonagall demanded. Her eyes darted from Harry, to the Aurors, to the wands in their hands, to the crumbled marble littered around Dumbledore's body. Her mouth hung agape; she was clearly livid.
"Sorry to disturb you, Headmistress," said Robards. "Did we wake you?"
"Wake me?" McGonagall sputtered. "That Exploding Charm woke the entire castle!"
"It wasn't an Exploding Charm, Professor, it was a Shield Charm," said Harry sheepishly. "I didn't mean to destroy anything—"
"This was the result of a Shield Charm?" McGonagall asked, looking in astonishment at the shattered remains of the tomb all over the grounds.
"Two of them, actually," Harry corrected. "Look, I'm sorry for all the commotion, I was just trying to return something—"
"Return something?" McGonagall demanded. "Return what?" Harry could sense the probing eyes of everyone around him, and decided that it wasn't worth lying about.
"I have Professor Dumbledore's wand," Harry sighed, brandishing the Elder Wand in his main hand. "I was just putting it back where it came from. That's all, I swear."
"Why the hell do you have his wand?" Robards asked, suspicious. "You aren't the one who broke into his tomb last spring, are you?"
"No, of course not!" Harry said quickly. "Look, it's a long story, and the details don't matter. It was stolen from him by somebody else, and I'm giving it back."
Silence met this statement as everyone regarded him with mingled confusion and suspicion. Then, all turned to point their wands yet again into the darkness as another figure sprinted into view across the grounds.
"Came as soon as I saw—" panted Aberforth, pausing when he saw the gathered crowd. "Potter? What's all this? What happened to my brother's tomb?"
"Aberforth?" said McGonagall. "This just keeps getting stranger and stranger...what are you doing here?"
"I summoned him, Professor," Harry lied quickly. "Look, can we not make a big deal about this, please? I'll fix the tomb, and we can all go back to bed—"
"You most certainly will not fix the tomb!" McGonagall reprimanded him. "That was enchanted marble you shattered, and it was designed to withstand most basic charms and hexes. A simple Repair Charm won't fix it. I won't even begin to ask how you opened it, much less how you destroyed the marble…"
"Not the first time Potter's magic has exceeded expectations, is it?" Jasper chuckled. "Didn't you hear the boy's a prodigy, Headmistress?"
"I taught Mr. Potter for six years, and capable as he is, he never displayed such advanced aptitude as this," McGonagall tutted. "But it is no matter. I will summon another repair team to fix the tomb, but it may have to wait until after the winter months have passed."
"I beg your pardon, Headmistress?" Aberforth demanded. "You intend for my brother's body to be exposed to the elements for months?"
"Of course not, Aberforth," McGonagall snapped. She withdrew her wand and waved it over Dumbledore's body; a makeshift canvas covering encased the stone table, so that it appeared to be hidden beneath a large white tent. "As for you four," she said, rounding on Harry and the Aurors, "I won't interfere in Auror business, but I'd kindly ask you to sort this out away from school property."
"Understood, ma'am, we'll be going now," Robards said politely. He turned to Harry. "I suggest you go home and we'll talk about this in the morning."
"What's there to talk about?" Harry demanded, his temper still flaring. "I'm not on duty tonight. You attacked me. This doesn't strike me as Auror business at all."
"You're on Hogwarts grounds after-hours without a visitor's pass," McGonagall chimed in. "For your sake, Potter, I would consider it Auror business or I'll have to ban you from the premises. I have half a mind to do so anyway!"
Harry and Robards continued glaring at one another. "Go home, Potter," Robards growled. "And don't come into the office on Monday. Consider this the start of your Christmas holiday."
"Fine," Harry huffed, and without waiting for permission he turned and walked across the grounds towards Hogsmeade. He was frustrated; not only had his entire Hogwarts trip felt like a waste of time, but now everyone seemed to be mad at him for no good reason. McGonagall thought he was at the school just to cause trouble, Robards thought he was disregarding Auror authority, and even Hermione thought he was overthinking Dawlish and the scepter. He took a mighty kick at a deflated Quaffle lying discarded on the grass but missed, sending him toppling backwards onto the frosty ground. Perfect, Harry thought, picking himself up and stalking the rest of the way to the iron gate marking the edge of Hogwarts property.
Harry went straight to his room as soon as he Apparated into Grimmauld Place, not wanting to face Ron or Neville right now. He didn't feel like explaining himself any more tonight, because it seemed like every time he did so nowadays, he just dug himself even deeper into whatever hole he found himself in. Wasn't life supposed to be easier now that the war was over? Harry still felt like he was at war with everyone else around him. Sure, maybe his life wasn't at stake, but he felt like he'd fought (and lost) more battles of wits in the past six months than the entire rest of his life combined.
The next morning, Harry went down to the kitchen for breakfast, contemplating how to bring up the previous day's events with Ron and Neville. But as soon as he walked into the room, they rounded on him. "What the hell's going on, mate?" Ron demanded.
"Why are you stirring trouble with the other Aurors?" Neville asked.
"How d'you already—?" Harry began to ask, but then he caught a glimpse of the Daily Prophet headline in Ron's hand. Harry grabbed for it and read it, eyes wide:
LATE-NIGHT AUROR SCUFFLE ON HOGWARTS' GROUNDS; TOMB DESTROYED
by Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet
Students were awoken by a disturbance late last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when a fight broke out between four members of the Auror Office on school grounds. A source close to the incident tells the Prophet that Harry Potter, Gawain Robards, Amelia Proudfoot and Kelvin Jasper engaged in a brief duel near the tomb of Albus Dumbledore, which was destroyed in the process. Nobody was seriously injured in the fight, and the tomb has been given temporary protection until it can be re-rebuilt.
School Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Head of the Auror Office Gawain Robards, and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt could not be reached for comment.
It is unclear what led to the altercation, and why Dumbledore's tomb was a focal point of the incident. Our source indicates that Potter may have been dueling with two separate wands, which could lend credibility to the theory of the Elder Wand. Rumors have swirled that the fabled "Wand of Destiny" belonged to Dumbledore before his death, and is now possibly in possession of Harry Potter, who used it to defeat the Dark Lord last spring. How did Potter procure the wand from Dumbledore? It hearkens back to that mysterious night a year and a half ago, when Dumbledore was murdered, while Potter was allegedly present—
Harry threw the paper aside, annoyed. He didn't want to read any more. He knew the rest of the article would be speculation about the Elder Wand, half of which would be true, half of which would be slander. That would only make it more dangerous for Harry to possess the wand. Of course, it would be equally dangerous to not have it now, since he would be a target either way if Skeeter kept publicizing the wand's existence.
"Well?" Ron demanded.
"Look, it's not a big deal," Harry muttered. "I was trying to return Dumbledore's wand to his body, and the Aurors thought I was a body-snatcher or something. It was just a misunderstanding."
"This is going to look really bad," Neville muttered. "My Gran says all her friends have been gossiping about the Aurors going after each other since all the Dawlish stuff."
"Great," Harry muttered. Something else that would be blamed on him. Could he not catch a break? "Listen, Ron, I have to tell you about the scepter—" he continued.
"Already heard," Ron shook his head. "Talked to Hermione last night. I know your theory."
"And you don't think it's worth looking into?" Harry asked.
Ron hesitated. "It's not that I don't think it's important," he said. "I just think it's unlikely to be true, that's all."
"Great, that's just great," Harry said loudly. "Let's all just sit around like good boys and girls and wait for Voldemort to come back then."
"What's he talking about?" Neville whispered to Ron as Harry stalked from the room. But Harry had lost his appetite, and no longer sought the company of his friends. All they did was shoot down his ideas and discourage him from looking deeper into these problems. Could they not see how dire the stakes were? How huge the penalty would be if they were wrong?
And what was equally frustrating was the leak from Hogwarts! Who had talked to the Prophet about the incident? Robards? Proudfoot? Jasper? Surely not McGonagall or Aberforth...this had to be retribution for Harry stoking the flames in the Auror Office with the Dawlish accusations. They wanted to make Harry look bad, he was sure of it.
Harry stalked back up to his room and slammed the door. He felt more alone than he had since the beginning of the summer; even with Ron and Neville around, he was on an island, nobody to turn to. He was prepared to not leave his room for the rest of his Christmas holiday if he could help it…
As the cold weeks dragged on, Harry found he was unable to quarantine in his bedroom as planned, and took to pacing the house in his free time. Occasionally he would pass by Ron or Neville in the halls, but they pointedly ignored one another. They had both gone back to work the week after the raid, so Harry found himself alone for most of his days. It only heightened his anxiety and sense of dread about whatever was happening with the scepter and with Dawlish.
Hermione came back from Hogwarts for her winter break a few weeks later, and soon Ron and Neville were also dismissed for the remainder of the year. Harry slowly started to work his way back into their good graces, making small talk, helping with chores around the house. But he avoided any mention of the scepter, or Dawlish, or the Elder Wand, or anything else that might trigger an argument. It was better than the cold shoulder, but not by a whole lot.
Harry assumed that they would be spending Christmas morning at the Burrow, but Ron informed them that his parents had decided to take a long-overdue holiday to America now that they had an empty nest for the first time ever. So it would be just the three of them for the holiday this year – four, actually, as Neville too had his plans fall through when his Gran also decided to travel for warmer climates with some of her friends.
Harry awoke on Christmas morning to the smell of smoke. He bolted out of bed and sprinted down to the kitchen, where Ron was abashedly dumping burned pancakes into the trash while Hermione chastised him. Harry could not help but laugh, and the other two soon joined in. Harry didn't want them all to stay mad at each other forever, and it was nice to share this lighthearted moment with them. It was Christmas, for god's sake! There was no need for petty drama today.
After Hermione had successfully helped Ron in making proper pancakes, they enjoyed a hearty breakfast around the table, then exchanged gifts. Neville had gotten all three of them potted plants of different species; Harry's was a deep shade of purple and had what he swore was a fanged mouth, which seemed to follow him everywhere he went around the room. "Just don't get your fingers too close," Neville said nonchalantly; Harry didn't need telling twice.
That night the four of them lounged in the den in front of the roaring fire, laughing and sharing stories with one another. Harry was happy to have Neville around; he fit in with the trio better than he'd ever imagined possible. He always saw Neville as a bit of an oddball, but he'd come into his own in adulthood nicely. Besides, he, Ron and Hermione were all oddballs in their own respect.
The conversation turned to Ginny, as Harry casually asked how the Harpies were doing. "Fantastic!" Ron beamed. "They could be contenders this year! Ginny's still at Chaser, but all the reporters think she'll move to Seeker soon."
"Great," Harry said, smiling as wide as his could manage. "That's great." Hermione gave him an odd look; Harry could tell she was scrutinizing him, wondering what was up between him and Ginny, but Harry ignored her. Instead he looked over at Neville, who had checked out of the conversation about Quidditch and was now casually leafing through a copy of The Quibbler. Harry did a double-take at the back cover.
"Say Neville," Harry asked. "Could I have a look at that?" Neville handed over the magazine, and Harry squinted at the headline on the back, his eyes going wide:
WHERE OH WHERE IS THE SCEPTER OF BRAVERY?
by Xenophilius Lovegood, The Quibbler
Students at Hogwarts remain puzzled about the mysterious disappearance of an artifact that once graced its halls. The Scepter of Bravery, as it is known by those knowledgeable about its existence, has hung in the Great Hall for centuries and provided courage for new students to succeed in their endeavors at the school.
But what could have become of the ancient artifact, believed to belong to Godric Gryffindor? It was reported missing from the school after the Battle of Hogwarts, leading many to wonder who might have taken it and why. It has long been rumored to possess special properties that anyone holding it can absorb. Properties associated with the House of Gryffindor: bravery, valor, chivalry, and nerve. Many Hogwarts students have looked to it for comfort in times of stress: during exams, before Quidditch matches, or in matters of love.
But could there be a more sinister reason behind the scepter's disappearance? Somebody who desired its properties to perform some ignoble deed? Many dark wizards and witches passed through the school during the Battle of Hogwarts last May, and any one of them might have seized the opportunity to steal the precious artifact. What they intend to do with it is anyone's guess.
Longtime readers know the dangerous and challenging nature of Magizoology, which can require practitioners to put their lives on the line for great discoveries. It's no stretch of the imagination to see how such a scepter could be useful in one's endeavors to face such trials and tribulations. One can only hope the current holder's intentions are pure, and their quest is for the good of wizardkind...
"Did Luna put her dad up to this?!" Harry demanded aloud to no one in particular. Ron and Hermione came around to view the headline for themselves and groaned.
"Not intentionally, I'm sure," said Hermione. "You know how Luna and her father are. She probably just mentioned it in passing and he ran with it."
"But she knew the Aurors were interested in it!" Harry pointed out. "What if she mentioned that to him, too?"
"Luna wouldn't do that," said Ron. "She knows how important the privacy of our work is."
"Maybe Xenophilius already knew about the Scepter of Bravery beforehand," said Harry. "He knew about the Hallows, didn't he? This could be similar!"
"That was different," Hermione argued. "He knew about the Hallows long before they made the news."
"Maybe he knew about the scepter, too!" said Harry. "He knew what it was called—"
"According to rumors; Luna told us as much—"
"Still, it couldn't hurt to ask him, right?" Harry reasoned. "If he does know anything, it could be valuable to hear him out."
"Can I ask a question?" Neville interjected. "What's the big deal with this scepter, anyway? Why are we so interested in tracking it down? It's not dangerous, is it?"
Harry hesitated. He worried that this moment would come, when Neville started asking questions about things they didn't want to share with him. About Horcruxes, and Hallows, and other dark secrets they'd carried for the past year and a half. "Erm...it's nothing, Neville," he said carefully. "Just some suspicious circumstances, that's all."
"Oh come on, Harry, I think it's time we told him," Ron said.
"What?" said Harry. "We promised Dumbledore—"
"I don't think he would mind," Ron interrupted. "Neville's an Auror with us, and if he's gonna help us investigate this, he ought to know what he's facing. Besides, he killed Nagini, didn't he? I reckon he's earned the right to know."
"I agree with Ron," Hermione sighed. "We can trust Neville."
Harry frowned, still unsure. He could see Neville's eyes grow wide, as though he could sense that he was about to be let in on the biggest secret in the wizarding world. "Alright, fine," Harry sighed. "But Neville, you're sworn to secrecy on this, it's very dangerous information…"
"Of course!" said Neville. "I'd rather die than betray your secrets, Harry."
"I know you would," Harry nodded, and he believed Neville completely. "I told you during the battle last spring that Voldemort's snake had to die in order for him to be vulnerable. Do you know why?"
"I just figured it gave him some sort of protection when it was near him," Neville shrugged.
"Part of Voldemort's soul resided in the snake," Harry explained. "It's called a Horcrux. When you kill somebody, you can split your soul in two and hide part of it in an object, or a creature in this case. If Voldemort's body was killed, his spirit would survive because part of his soul still existed in another form. That's why he was able to come back after he tried to kill me as a baby."
"So the snake was a...a Horcrux?" said Neville. "And that's what was keeping him alive?"
"He made six Horcruxes, Neville," Hermione chimed in, and Neville's eyes grew wider still. "Dumbledore spent the last few years of his life figuring out what and where they were. And we spent a year on the run searching for them and trying to destroy them."
Neville nodded slowly, clearly trying to process this. "So when you asked me to kill the snake," he said, "that was a part of Voldemort's soul I destroyed?"
"Yes," said Ron. "The last one, mate. We'd already found and destroyed all the others—"
"Or so we thought…" Harry muttered. Neville looked confused at this.
"Harry is convinced that there was another Horcrux hidden in the scepter that went missing from Hogwarts," Hermione sighed. "And that therefore, Voldemort could still be out there biding his time until he finds a way to make a new body and reunite it with that soul fragment."
"So he might not really be dead?!" Neville yelped in alarm.
"We think he is," Ron said, indicating himself and Hermione. "But Harry has a hunch—"
"I just think," Harry said hotly, "that we should keep the possibility open! I know it's unlikely, but what if you're both wrong, and the scepter IS a Horcrux? We'd be fools not to make sure and track it down!"
"We know," Hermione sighed. "That's why I've been doing some research in my spare time, trying to find out anything more about this scepter."
"You have?!" Harry said in surprise.
"Yes," she said. "Haven't found very much, to be honest. Just a single mention in an older edition of Hogwarts, A History: a brief passage describing its place above the door, but it makes no mention of its history or power or anything."
"I see," said Harry. He was disappointed by the lack of news, but heartened by the fact that Hermione hadn't completely ignored his suspicions. It made him feel slightly less crazy, a feeling that had persisted in the past few weeks of isolation. "I just wish we could ask Hagrid about it," he sighed. "He might've known something about it going missing before."
"I thought the same thing," said Hermione. "Planned to ask him after class, but it's been Grubbly-Plank teaching us for the past few months. Not sure why…"
"He's helping the Ministry relocate the Giants," Harry explained. "Sprout told me."
"Hang on," Ron butted in, frowning. "What do you mean by 'teaching us', Hermione? Surely you aren't taking Care of Magical Creatures still?"
"As a matter of fact I am," Hermione said. "I've decided to pursue my N.E.W.T. in the subject."
"But...why?" asked Harry, puzzled. "I thought you said it was a worthless subject?"
"That was before I decided what I'm doing after school," said Hermione. "I want to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. All this talk of goblins and house-elves has me thinking it's high time that department worked harder for the good of all creatures, not just wizards."
"Oh," said Harry. "Brilliant! And I'll tell you from first-hand experience, Hermione, that Department needs all the help it can get. You could probably be running it by next Christmas."
Ron laughed at this; he too had met Steven Marchbanks for the first time recently and knew what Harry was alluding to. Harry turned to Neville, who still appeared deep in thought over the revelation of the Horcruxes.
"So what does this all have to do with the Elder Wand?" Neville blurted out. Harry, Ron and Hermione froze in surprise.
"How do you know about that?" Harry asked.
"It's been all over the Prophet, and the Quibbler for that matter," Neville shrugged. "Rumors about it resurfacing with Dumbledore. I heard about it as a kid, as a rumor. Is it true?"
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione for a moment, then sighed and walked up to his bedroom. He returned with the Elder Wand, handing it to Neville, who eyed it with wonder.
"Is this…?" Neville asked, running a trembling hand up and down the wand.
"Yes it is," said Harry.
"So it is true, then?" he asked. "This is how you beat Voldemort?"
"In a sense, yes," said Harry. "He stole it from Dumbledore's tomb and thought it would serve him. But it answered to me, because—well, it's a long story."
"So that's how you held off those three Aurors at the tomb the other night?" said Neville. "And broke through the enchanted barrier during the raid?"
"That's right," said Harry. "But I don't want it anymore. I was trying to return the wand to Dumbledore's body that night. It's too dangerous."
Neville looked up and down the Elder Wand once more, his reverence and awe slowly receding into fear. He hastily handed the wand back to Harry. "What's all this got to do with me?" he asked.
"Remember the prophecy, Neville?" Harry asked. "From our fifth year, in the Department of Mysteries? It said that the person who would take down Voldemort would be born at the end of July in 1980. That's why he tried to kill me as a baby."
"But...but it could have been me?" Neville asked, suddenly looking frightened.
"It could have," Harry shrugged. "But he chose me because I was a half-blood, like him. That scared him more. You stood up to him in the battle, Neville, and you killed Nagini. I think that proves you could've had it in you too."
Neville stared down at his feet, processing this. "I'm not a hero," he muttered softly to himself.
"Neither am I," Harry said. "That's what I've been trying to tell everyone all these years. I was just a pawn in Dumbledore and Voldemort's war. All of us were."
There was a sobering silence at these words. Then, Neville lit up unexpectedly. "So now can you finally tell me what you three were up to last year?" he asked eagerly. "There are some outrageous rumors out there, and no one knows what to believe…"
Harry looked to Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged: they'd come this far, hadn't they? "Yeah, alright then," said Harry. "We should probably start with the night Dumbledore got killed." And he began recounting the story of the Horcrux hunt, beginning in the cave, then Dumbledore's murder by Snape. Then the escape from Privet Drive, and the attack at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and the invasion of the Ministry, and going on the run through the countryside...
Harry kept things short and sweet as his story began, but he added more and more detail as he went along. Ron and Hermione jumped in as appropriate too, giving their side of the story. Soon all three of them were animatedly recounting their misadventures to a rapt audience of one as Neville regarded them all with awe. It was cathartic letting all of this off of his chest, Harry thought; he had always assumed he, Ron and Hermione would take this story to the grave. But by the time they reached the Battle of Hogwarts and recounted the details of Voldemort's demise, they were all exhilarated – none moreso than Neville.
"Bloody hell, that's incredible!" he shouted jubilantly. "And I helped! I got the snake!"
"Hell yeah you did, mate!" Harry beamed at him. He wondered now if Neville still believed he wasn't a hero after learning of his critical part in Voldemort's downfall...
By this point it was getting late; it was past midnight already, and they'd all lost track of time over the course of telling the grand story of the Horcrux hunt. Neville retired to bed first, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione alone by the fire.
"There's something else I forgot to mention earlier," Harry sighed, looking across the room at the other two. "The Sword of Gryffindor. I promised I would give it to Garunk the Great."
"You what?!" Ron yelped. "Give it to a goblin? Are you mad?"
"Never mind that now," muttered Harry. "The Sword won't come to me anymore. I tried to take it from McGonagall's office, but I couldn't lift it. I'm not worthy to possess it – not for this purpose."
"Oh but Harry, that's not good at all!" Hermione gasped. "If you promised Garunk the Sword, and you don't give it to him, that could trigger the war that everyone's so worried about."
"I know," Harry sighed. "I don't know what to do about it. I would tell Kingsley, but I think he has too much on his plate right now. Besides, we aren't really on speaking terms right now."
"I think you have no choice but to tell him now," said Hermione. "He ought to be prepared if there's going to be another goblin rebellion. And if you break that promise you made to Garunk, it could very well happen."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry agreed; she had the correct answer as usual. Kingsley needed to be kept in the loop on this goblin business, especially since Harry couldn't trust Steven Marchbanks to handle it himself. But he was feeling better about it now that he'd let Neville in on their most terrible secrets. Maybe it was better to let others help shoulder his burdens and solve difficult problems. He knew this, of course, but his recent spats with just about everybody had muddled that sentiment recently. He resolved to walk straight up to the Minister's office the first Monday back in January and tell him everything he needed to know.
Perhaps Professor Dupont was right about everything all along. And, Harry thought begrudgingly to himself, it might be time for him to make a return trip to Coeur-du-l'Ame…