Ch. 4
A Love Letter

The sound of running water woke Ron from his sleep. Instead of opening his eyes, he lifted his nose into the air and sniffed which was an action he had come to find more efficient than sight on several occasions. The first thing he noticed was that Harry was not in the room and neither was Hermione. Her sweet sent was mingled farther off with the sharp smell of bath soap. She must be taking a shower and Harry had left early for the pub to meet what's-his-name. Ron's nose quivered again and he decided that neither of them had eaten breakfast. But, the innkeeper had some bacon on.

Ron opened his eyes and stretched. He had been curled up on top of an old muggle newspaper which had made a surprisingly comfortable bed.

His whiskers twitched curiously as he caught a new scent. It was coming from outside so he moved to the sliding glass door and peered out. Hedwig was sitting high up in a pine tree contentedly chewing on a mouse she caught the night before and Pig was snoozing a few branches below her. There was still no sign of Crookshanks, but something was coming towards him from above the trees: a black owl. But, it didn't smell like an owl. Even through the glass and ten feet away Ron could smell the potent perfume coming off the letter the bird had in its beak.

The owl landed and folded his wings on the concrete patio directly in front of Ron. It tapped its beak violently against the glass and screeched loudly as Hedwig peered down from her perch disapprovingly. The creature seemed eager to get rid of its scented dispatch.

The din was growing louder and Ron's quills were standing on end. Just drop it on the doorstep you dumb bird, he thought with growing panic. Hermione was in the shower and there was nothing he could do for the owl. What if the innkeeper came back and kicked them all out? He missed being tall and having thumbs.

Just when he thought the owl was going to stay and screech at him forever, it gave up and flapped away hurriedly leaving the perfumed letter lying face up on the concrete. Before reading the name on the envelope Ron knew who it was for and who it was from. So, Krum soaks his letters in perfume, Ron snorted and wriggled his nose in disgust, You'd never know he was that kind of bloke from looking at his picture. He comes off as all surly and manly, but I bet he's worse than Percy.

Ron could hear Hermione humming faintly underneath the roar of the shower water. They had all agreed that they would not receive owls while they were in Godric's Hollow because they did not want anyone to know where they were. So why had Krum sent one then?

Suddenly Ron stood blot upright! A key was turning in the lock and their door was opening, but it was not Harry. He raced under the sofa as quickly as he could before the innkeeper stepped into the room.

"That's it!" he boomed, "I've had it with you! I'm getting complaints now of screaming, howling, filthy animals!"

The gruff man glanced around the room with his hands on his hips and realized that the only person in the tiny suite was in the shower and completely deaf to his ranting. As the man stood there, Ron looked at the open door and had an idea.

Before the innkeeper could turn and leave again, Ron dashed out the door and down the hall. Luckily, the front door to the inn was also open and he was able to slip around to the back unseen.

There was only one patio at the back of the inn, so finding Hermione's letter was easy enough. That stupid prat, Krum, and his stupid love letters, he thought. Ron felt no guilt as he ripped open the envelope with his teeth and watched Krum's letter unfold to reveal a slip of cardboard on which was printed an extremely fancy invitation. That was where the strong perfume had been coming from. He wondered if it was his enhanced niffler sense of smell that made the sent so potent. He could hardly read it as his beady eyes watered.

Miss Hermione Granger
is cordially invited to this years
Bulgarian Midsummer Ball
by Lady Anastasia Krum II

The festivities will be held at the distinguished house of Krum on August the 28th at 8:00 p.m. This is an event sponsored by the noble house of Krum and Departments of Magical Cooperation from all around the world. On this night distinguished witches and wizards from around the world come together for a night of dancing and fellowship. In these dark times we must unite and show support for one another.

Send a letter of confirmation back with the owl to verify that you have received your invitation. Invitation required for admittance.

Lady Anastasia Krum! Hermione had met Victor's distinguished grandmother? Ron could feel his ears turning red. The thought of Hermione at another ball with Victor Krum was maddening. He remembered them dancing together at the Yule Ball; how she smiled at him and looked so beautiful. Not that I want to dance with her, he thought as he shook his quills, I'm a terrible dancer and I'm really just looking out for my friend. Right? Krum's a horrible person and Hermione, who thinks she knows it all, just can't see it.

He pushed the invitation aside and glanced down the letter:

Dearest Hermione,

I know you told me not to send you any owls this summer, but my grandmother was so persistent in getting you this invitation that I could hardly tell her that you did not want any owls. Plus, there is something that I think you should know. I apologize for the perfume, but it helps our owls get through the postal watch. They know not to open the scented letters because it means they are important messages from my grandmother. Things are not going too well up here. But it is impossible to explain such a thing through a letter.

Dearest, I have something that I need to tell you about your birthday present that I…

Ron did not bother to read the rest. He took the letter and buried it deep underground so that the perfume would not rise to haunt him.

Thinking about how Krum's gift sparkled in Hermione's hair made him feel strange. She had not worn the hair piece since they had met in Diagon Alley five days ago. Ron was not sure if she had looked through his present yet. The book had seemed like something that would interest her when he saw it on display in Flourish and Blot's. She was always reading things like that and he loved to watch her read them. It was fascinating to him to see her flipping through books, absorbing information like some sort of brilliant, bushy brown sponge. He loved how her expression would change ever so slightly as she read: the corners of her mouth twitching up to a smile or the tiny crease that formed between her brows when she was thinking over a puzzle.

Stupid Krum…

ζ

"And this," said Logan, spreading his arms proudly, "Is our cemetery."

Finally, thought Harry. They had been walking around Godric's Hollow for over five hours going everywhere, but where Harry wanted to go.

"It's lovely," said Harry as he weaved through the maze of monuments and tombstones.

It was a lovely cemetery. Mossy spring grass spread itself across the plot, only a few recently dug graves were not wrapped in the bright green vegetation. Throughout the cemetery weeping willows were placed and the sun shining down through their branches cast a dappled light over the graves. Little winged warblers sang to the dead from that drooped canopy. There was something joyous about the sorrow of this place.

"Don't know why you would want to come here, Neville," said Logan, scratching his beard, "there aren't any Longbottoms in our cemetery."

Harry was not listening. He was looking from tombstone to tombstone for his parents' graves and he found them. They lay side by side directly beside the grandest willow in the place. They shared a marble tombstone that was plagued with a net of vines. Clearing away the vegetation, Harry could see that nothing special was written on it, only their names and the day they died.

He did not know what he had expected to find there. Maybe a clue as to what the horcrux was or some sort of directions telling him what to do next. Why had he thought that coming to see his parents graves would sort everything out and provide all the answers?He put his back to the stone and leaned back against it.

Bringing his knees up and resting his forehead against them, Harry felt tears threatening his eyes. They welled up in the corners and sat there burning as he tried to hold them back. There was no one to hand him the solution anymore. Dumbledore was dead, Sirius was dead, and his parents had always been dead. Somehow he thought that there would always be someone out there for him to guide him and protect him, but that time was over now.

Down the street Logan was sitting at a bus stop drinking beer. Harry liked Logan, even though he was easily distracted and difficult to get information from. He was grateful that Logan had left him alone.

Harry got up, dusted off his pants, and took a last look at his parents final resting place. He was an adult in a dangerous situation and he had to work out a solution. So much depended on him and he did not even know where to start looking.

ζ

"Ron! How on earth did you get outside?"

Hermione came out of the bathroom frowning, wrapped in a towel, and dripping wet. She was holding her wand which she looked ready to chuck across the room. She opened the door for him and he crawled inside cautiously, being careful to look anywhere but at her naked legs.

She seemed embarrassed as she grabbed her cloths from her bag and dashed back into the bathroom. When she came out she was fully dressed, but wearing the same frown as before.

"My wand is broken, Ron!" she said, collapsing onto the sofa, "I can't imagine what's happened, but it won't work. I tried to summon my cloths from the bathroom and after about ten minutes of standing there I realized that there has to be something wrong with it!"

She looked down at Ron, "You know, I've been thinking about taking you to the Ministry. They would know what to do for you and now I need to get my wand tuned in London. Oh dear, what am I going to do? Now that Mr. Olivander is missing, I'll have to find a different place."

Ron scrambled up the leg of the sofa to sit beside her. Sniffing her wand he didn't smell anything funny about it. But, he supposed, you can't really smell magic, can you?