Rather pleased with the end result, Harry stuck both his wands into his belt where he had sewn two loops into the strap. His wands slipped into the loops securely. His holly wand was at his right hip, his spare was at his left, the wand he had taken from Malfoy down in the Chamber of Secrets. He turned to the bed where he had laid out all his gear for the visit to the Lovegood residence. He took the emergency portkey that he had wrapped in a square of cloth, a pebble that he had charmed earlier that morning to deliver him to their hideout in an emergency. He opened his mokeskin pouch and pushed it inside.

The pouch was mostly empty. He had removed the things that he couldn't bear to lose, keeping them safe in their fidelius charmed home. Instead, it housed emergency supplies. He had a small bottle of blood replenishing potion, a vial of Essence of Dittany, some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and a curl of soft, golden brown hair.

He smiled to himself as his fingers brushed the lock of hair. The evening before, Hermione had decided he should look slightly more presentable. She confronted the Potter mane. Already it had started to get unruly again and his uneven, self-styled cut at the Hog's Head hadn't helped matters. After she was satisfied and Harry had checked her handiwork in a mirror, Hermione plucked up a black curl from the floor. She transfigured a piece of glass to form around the lock of Harry's hair and sealed it in a glass pebble. She threaded a length of string through a loop set in the pebble and wore it around her neck.

Her gesture soon had him causing a lot of giggling as he climbed on her and selected one of her many curls before snipping it off (with her permission) and putting it in with his pouch. Her place was next to his heart, after all.

Extracting his fingers from the pouch, Harry tucked it under his shirt and jumper. His scar gave a brief throb accompanied with a feeling of frustration that he knew wasn't his. He scowled, rubbing at his forehead. Hermione picked that moment to walk in the bedroom and caught him in the act.

"Your scar's hurting," she stated. Harry jumped, opening his mouth to dispute it, but then his shoulders dropped and he sighed.

"Nothing happened."

"But that means he's not occluding anymore… maybe we should postpone…"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I'll be fine." He caught the look on her face and he sighed. "He hasn't tried anything since he knocked my brain about a bit at Bathilda's and I definitely pushed him out the same way I did before at the Ministry. Dumbledore said that it likely hurts him when I fight back."

He moved to the bed, taking up his Invisibility Cloak. "And there is one thing I know for sure about him. He won't do something at the cost of his own power, not even taunt me for a bit."

Knowing Hermione as well as he did, he knew she would be stubborn and nothing he could say would make her not worry about him. He gave her a small smile.

"I could stay behind and you could go on your own, but then you'd be worried about me being on my own back here and I'll be worried about you out there..." He turned, approaching her, holding the cloak. He rubbed the silky fabric between his fingers. "Or we could both stay here and…"

"Alright… I see your point," Hermione said, folding her arms, frowning at him.

"Besides, if it does happen," he threw his cloak over his shoulder and stepped up to her. He tapped her hip where her wand was stowed in her belt, in a loop like his own. "Stun me. He can't get anything out of me if I'm unconscious."

"Harry-."

"I'm serious, Hermione," he fixed her with an intense look, "it's not worth the risk when we're out in the open. Here and at Bathilda's, we have the fidelius… but out there…" He shook his head. "You stun me and get us the hell out of there."

As it always did when he was serious with her, it assured her and she gave him a firm dip of her chin in response. He moved up to her, kissing her gently and brushing his hand against her cheek.

"We're just popping in to see Luna and ask her dad some questions about the Deathly Hallows. There's no need for us to hang around and endanger them," he said softly. "Really, this is a walk in the park compared to everything else we've done. Especially when we're considering a trip to Germany of all places if we have to."

Hermione rested her hands on his shoulders, looking up at his face and then to his scar. She brushed her finger over the famous mark tenderly.

"One thing at a time," she murmured to him. "We have Christmas with Bathilda before we even think about making serious plans to see Grindelwald."

Harry smiled at the mention. His heart gave a happy flutter at the thought of Christmas at Godric's Hollow.

"That is very true," he said softly, "I need to brush up on my Christmas carols." He kissed her on the cheek and stalked out into the sitting room, glancing over his shoulder, seeing her watching him with a warm, caring smile. She could see his excitement at the thought of having his own Christmas for once, not as a guest at the Weasleys, feeling like an intruder, nor at Hogwarts where there was home but not family. He would be spending a quiet Christmas with the one he loved and one who was the closest to family he had.

Carrying his Invisibility Cloak to the table where Hermione had set up her equipment, he kept smiling to himself, old half-remembered words from primary school assemblies shuffled into the foreground of his mind.

He cleared his throat and sang for the first time in seven years.

"In the bleak midwinter," he sang softly, then paused, hearing a loud thud behind him of Hermione responding to him suddenly bursting into song. He cleared his throat again and continued, smiling, his face blushing a little. "Frosty wind did moan."

Hermione pushed the flap back and he turned. Her mouth was agape.

"You… know that song?"

"Sang it in school," he replied. She rushed over to him, her arms wrapping around him tightly, burrowing her head into his chest.

"It's one of my favourites," she said, her voice a little muffled, then she looked up at him, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed. "Do you know the rest?"

"Um… only the first bit but," he swallowed, blushing a little. "I… haven't sang in years. Not even in the shower."

"Go on… please?" Her eyes were wide, beseeching. Harry sighed and cleared his throat.

"Earth stood hard as iron," he kept going, his throat feeling a bit strange as he sang. "Water like a stone." He realised Hermione had held her breath, her eyes so wide, sparking with tears. He looked down at her and smiled.

"Snow had fallen," he paused trying to remember, "um… oh. Snow on snow. Snow on snow." He smiled more broadly, his cheeks hot. "In the bleak midwinter. Long, long ago."

Hermione gazed at him, a tear rolling down her cheek. He swallowed, now not just hot where he was blushing, but hot under his collar and everywhere else. She reached up to his face and pulled him down, her lips pushing hard against his. She gasped in a breath.

She was crying properly.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He asked as he moved her back, his heart wrenching at the sight of her crying.

"I… I'm not sad." She choked through her tears. "It's… just you singing."

"I sounded that bad?" He was mortified.

"N-no!" Hermione laughed, lifting her head, beaming at him. "The opposite, silly. It was wonderful."

Warmth rushed through him at the compliment.

"Oh… well, it's a shame I don't know the rest of the words then. I'm afraid that's the end of the show."

"It really is a shame. If you sang that to Bathilda, she'd probably have kittens."

"At her age?"

Hermione slapped his arm, smiling tearily. He dropped his arms from around her, deeply touched by her reaction to his singing. He slid away from her, moving back to what he had been doing before his impulsive singing had distracted them both. He was glowing from the praise as he checked the potions that Hermione had put out as their 'field pack' and double-checked their decoys. A hand brushed his back as he busied himself and Hermione kissed the back of his neck.

"I love you," she whispered. "I want you to know that."

He grasped at the chair, closing his eyes at the words. Whenever she said it, he had to refrain from pinching himself.

"I love you too," he said back, reaching behind him, finding her hand and squeezing it. "And I'll sing for you more if you like it so much."

Her other hand came up, pressing against his chest and she hugged him from behind. He leaned back a little into her, allowing himself the closeness of her embrace. When she finally let go of him, he had a strong suspicion that there would be a wet patch on his back where she cried into his jumper. She moved to his side, recovering from her minor breakdown at his singing attempt. He glanced up at her, worried, but her face was clear and focused.

"Shall we go in half an hour?" She asked him, her voice soft. He checked his watch. That meant getting there for half two.

"Sure. It… feels weird not taking the camp with us," Harry said, looking around at the tent.

"It's safer here than with us," she replied, then gestured at their strange 'trophy' collection that they assembled on what should have been a cabinet for decorative crockery. Upon there were the two horcruxes they had destroyed, Ron's shrunken bed, the Marauders' Map and Harry's snitch. The fake locket and the letter Harry had taken from Grimmauld Place were the only two keepsakes that he kept in his pouch. One to remind him of Dumbledore and his mission, the other to remind him of what he had lost.

"Yeah… some things are pretty damning if they're found on us," Harry said, looking at the horcruxes, "well… being found at all is bad… um anyway." He pushed the potions towards her. "Polyjuice just to be safe." He said. "I've got some dittany and blood replenisher. Antidotes?"

"We either take them all or none," Hermione said.

"Agreed. Leave them then. If we do get poisoned, portkey is the priority." He shot a look at Hermione, grimacing. "Really, if anything happens, we come right back. Take Luna and her dad with us if we have to."

He drummed his fingers on the table, looking at the rest of the inventory.

"If anything happens… if we're separated and don't have our gear…" He said quietly, voicing the mantra that he said to Hermione as they prepared the day before.

"We say his name," Hermione said.

The name in question wasn't Voldemort. The name in question belonged to the owner of the shrunken bed on their trophy cabinet. His deluminator would hear them if they spoke his name. It was Christmas too. The chances were high that he would be with his family. If they ever did need help, they could call the Weasley cavalry.

But it was a last resort.

Squeezing each others' hands, they then parted to finish their preparations. As Harry went to the bathroom, he hummed a certain Christmas carol. Before he stepped in, he heard Hermione humming the same tune behind him.


Compared to the frigid chill that clung to their island hideout, the weather was mild just outside Ottery St Catchpole in Devon. Overcast, thick grey clouds hung overhead, a threatening drizzle spraying the invisible pair as they recovered from their apparation. Easing her grip on Harry's arm, Hermione looked over in the direction of the Burrow, her thoughts heading over to the hodge-podge house that was visible behind a crest of low-rise hills. The protective charms that the Ministry placed for Harry's protection had been removed, no longer a safe haven but a residence for a wizarding family under government surveillance.

Harry's thoughts were clearly in the same place as he leaned in her ear.

"Aurors will be down there so we better move," he whispered.

She nodded, scouring the landscape. She pointed out a tall hill further away from the Burror.

"We'll get a better view from up there," she said. Harry nodded.

"Good idea." He took her arm and fixed his concentration on the hill, turning on the spot. There was a split second of pressure as he disapparated them only for them to emerge on the crest of the hill that Hermione had pointed. The sudden apparation took her by surprise. She gasped, staggering, gazing back up at Harry who was already searching the area. He brushed off what he had just done with ease. Few wizards could spot and apparate so quickly.

"There - do you see that?" Harry suddenly said, pointing to the next hill over. "Wh- what the bloody hell is that?"

Hermione understood at once why he exclaimed. The building perched on the hill resembled a squat, black cylinder. She shared a look with Harry.

"Well… if that doesn't scream Lovegood, what does?" Harry remarked.

"I agree. Let's take a closer look."

Harry took her arm again, his face fixed with a look of concentration and he took them through the darkness even faster than he had done so before.

"You've really got the hang of that," Hermione said breathlessly as they appeared outside a rickety fence. Harry flashed her his crooked grin, his eyes brightening from the compliment. As it now always did, the joy in his eyes took her breath away. Seeing his happiness and knowing that she was the cause made life worth living. Made everything worth it.

Tucking her arm through his, they climbed up the grassy hill to a gate. Three signs were nailed to the wood.

"A-ha! Bingo," Harry said as they came up. "'The Quibbler. Editor. X. Lovegood'." Hermione frowned at the other signs.

"'Keep off the Dirigible plums'? What are they?"

"Must be them." Harry pointed over to a tree in the garden with fruit that defied gravity, floating upwards from the plant.

"What a strange garden…" Hermione said, baffled, as she spied the odd plants that adorned the garden. "Why on earth do they have a Snargaluff?" She pointed to the wizened stump.

"I dunno. Maybe being bound up in roots is meant to be good for soul-searching or something."

Hermione laughed. "Shush you. We need to be respectful."

"Says you. We're not going to get a foot in the door before you dispute every theory he's ever printed about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

She shoved into him roughly in response, making him give a mischievous cackle and he stumbled, pushing through the gate.

"I just hope he has something real about these Hallows," she said as they made their way up the path.

"Considering that we're currently hiding under one, I think we can safely say that they are real."

Hermione gave a soft impatient huff.

"I know that, but I mean… what if he believes the fairytale? Death giving the three brothers gifts…"

"And that is why I think I should do the talking," Harry said, amused.

"No, you should do the talking because you're the one that he's been telling everyone to help."

They reached a thick black door. At the top of the doorstep, Hermione pulled the Cloak off them and stuffed it into her bag for safe-keeping. She eyed Harry meaningfully, eyeing the door. He sighed.

"Hopefully Luna answers…" Harry said, glancing over his shoulder anxiously before rapping on the door. "I don't want to be stuck out here in the open."

They waited, hearing banging inside and hurried footsteps. Harry jumped back at the violent noises from within, holding his wand close to his side. The door threw open. Unfortunately, it wasn't Luna. Xenophilius Lovegood stood framed in his doorway, looking as if he had just come from his bed. Hermione blinked, feeling rather mortified at seeing an old man in his nightclothes.

"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" Xenophilius ranted at them, his wand raised. Hermione felt Harry shift her back as he moved in front, protecting her, his own wand close to his chest, ready to shield. As he did, the bewildered man focused on him. His face went slack as he recognised Harry.

Compared to how he had been at the wedding, Xenophilius looked dreadful. His hair was unkempt, bedraggled. His nightshirt was stained. His face was unshaven, his grey beard scraggly. Harry recovered from the surprise first, slipping his wand in the loop in his belt that he had made as a home-made wand holster.

He extended out his wand-hand.

"Er… Hello, Mr Lovegood," he said, awkwardly, "I'm… Harry. Harry Potter."

It struck Hermione how strange it was to hear Harry introduce himself. Having spent so much time around him, usually people when they met Harry parroted his name at him as if he didn't know it. She felt a strong surge of irritation and annoyance on Harry's behalf as the man didn't take his hand, instead his functional eye slid up to Harry's forehead, staring at his scar. She huffed at the blatant invasion of Harry's privacy. But Harry, being Harry, took it in his stride. He lowered his hand slowly, not looking back to Hermione.

"Would it be okay if we came in?" He asked. "It's not exactly safe for us to stand out on doorsteps."

Xenophilius's eye snapped over to Hermione, then back to Harry. He swallowed nervously.

"I'm not sure that's advisable," he said quietly. "Rather a shock… my word… I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to-."

Hermione could see then that Xenophilius wasn't being rude on purpose. He was scared and paranoid.

"Is Luna in?" Hermione asked, sliding out from behind Harry. "She's a good friend of ours."

At the mention of Luna, both of Xenophilius's eyes widened and he gave another swallow.

"Oh… all right then. Come in quickly. Quickly!"

The man ushered them inside and then slammed the door behind them. Hermione came to a stop when she was assaulted by the most vibrantly decorated kitchen she had ever seen. The room was a perfect circle. All the furniture was curved to fit the walls - the stove, the sink and the cupboards. Everywhere was painted with flowers, insects and birds, all in primary colours. In the middle of the room was an iron, spiral staircase that led to the rest of the house.

"We really won't take up much of your time. Is Luna upstairs?" Harry followed Mr Lovegood, glancing up the stairs. He kept his concentration unlike Hermione. She stared around, bewildered, then caught sight of the shoes at the front door. All were large shoes, mostly wellington boots. None looked like Luna's.

Xenophilius suddenly came to a halt, forcing Harry to step back before he collided with the man.

"N-no. She's out by the stream. Why don't you head up the stairs and take a seat? I… I'll go and tell her that you're here."

Mr Lovegood edged around them, keeping his distance as if he expected them to strike him. His behaviour was beyond bizarre and he snatched up a pair of boots, pulling them on.

"Just… just be a moment." He said as he wrenched the door back open and tumbled outside, leaving a stunned Harry and Hermione waiting in the kitchen.

"I… was expecting a different welcome," Harry said quietly, snapping Hermione's attention back to him and away from the kitchen cabinets that were covered in bright paintings of flowers and insects.

"He's scared, Harry, and rightly so. Maybe we shouldn't have come."

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck as he did when he was flustered. His green eyes were uncertain, nervous. Not a look that gave Hermione a great deal of confidence.

"We're here now," he said softly, then he gazed up the stairs. "What the hell is making all that noise if it's not Luna?"

Hermione realised then what he was talking about. Something was banging and clattering above them.

"Come on, he said for us to go up. We might as well," he said to her, stepping up onto the iron stairs. "This is a weird house… even for wizard standards." He added. Hermione followed him up, the clattering getting louder as they ascended. Just as they reached the landing of the next floor, Harry stopped, giving a soft gasp.

"What is it?"

"Look… up there," he pointed up to the next floor. Hermione stepped up to him, looking upwards to the room above. "It's… me? "

Hermione gasped, her face going slack with surprise as she peered up to what had to be Luna's bedroom above. She could just make out the painted ceiling through the ajar door where, sure enough, Harry's face stared down at them.

"I didn't know Luna could paint," Harry said softly, then went to climb the stairs up to her bedroom.

"No, Harry… don't," she stepped up, chasing after him, her boots clanging on the metal treds. "We're guests. We shouldn't snoop." He stopped, looking sheepish, and descended back down.

Hermione then led the way to the sitting room where Xenophilius had told them to wait. She looked around the space, drawing parallels to the room and Bathilda's house. Both Ravenclaws shared an inability to organise their research. There were many seats and side tables, each covered with stacks of paper and precarious towers of books. She looked up at the models of creatures that hung from the ceiling, a few adorned with tinsel in a cheery, festive way. She noticed the source of the clattering, taking up most of the space. It resembled a printing press and was magically getting to work, vomiting out new editions of Xenophilius's publication.

"I think it's safe to say that Mr Lovegood doesn't use this room to entertain guests." Harry caught her attention as he lifted a stack of parchment from a bright green settee. "Um… here should do." He carried the work over to a desk, then paused and frowned. Hermione came over, curious to see what he had spotted.

"I know… no snooping," he said under his breath when she came to his side, "but I can hardly ignore this. "

Most of the desk was taken up by a large, detailed map of the United Kingdom. It was hand-drawn, though likely sketched with the help of magic. Place names, cities, landmarks, rivers had all been scribed in a small, compact script. Hermione understood at once what had drawn Harry's attention. There were several red pins stuck in the map with small notes stuck to them. Her gaze went onto the note in the south west.

"31st October - Harry Potter sighted at the Potter memorial.

1st November - Ministry reports Potter's presence. Likely Potter stayed the night at an ally's. Bagshot?"

Hermione edged closer, her heart racing, as she analysed the other notes. One in Scotland.

"6th November - Potter and Granger break into Hogwarts. Reasons unknown. Potter injured during escape."

"Merlin…" Harry breathed out the name, "look… he even knows where my relatives live… well… lived. " He flicked the pin that jutted out from Surrey. Sure enough there was a note.

"Number 4, Privet Drive - muggle residence where Harry Potter grew up. Now abandoned. "

"I… suppose we know what research Xenophilius is working on now…" Hermione looked up at Harry, seeing how pale he had gone. He swallowed and looked over to the window.

"I'm seriously debating that we leave, Hermione," he said.

She checked the other pins, seeing that there was one at the Burrow, dating the wedding. Harry had been in disguise then. No one was supposed to know that he had attended. Then there was one at the Ministry. All of Harry's movements had been tracked with precision. It was alarming.

"I'd expect to see something like this in the Auror Office… not…"

"Here," Harry finished.

The front door banged shut downstairs. She moved away from the map, not wanting to be caught rummages in Xenophilius's research. As she did, her attention was snagged on a peculiar statue of a woman's bust. Hermione stopped and stared at it. The headrest perched on the stone head was adorned with ear trumpets and orange radishes.

"Ah, you've spotted my pet invention," Xenophilius said as he climbed up the stairs. He wasn't empty-handed. As he stepped off the stairs to the landing, the cups and teapot rattled.

"I… er…" Hermione had no idea what to say. Harry, however, did. He crossed the room and pointed at the desk and the map.

"We've also spotted that you've been keeping an eye on me," Harry said, his tone a little cold. He crossed his arms. Xenophilius jerked to a halt, his eyes moving between Harry and the map. He visibly gulped at the look in Harry's eyes, a hardened edge.

"News of your exploits have… have been raising morale, Mr Potter."

"Not all of your readers are on my side, Mr Lovegood," Harry said, frowning. He approached the man and took the tray from him, sighing. Hermione saw the distrust there, but Harry was staying in control of his temper. His green eyes flashed over to her and she dipped her chin in response, understanding. Harry wasn't happy with being tracked down and hunted like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Not happy at all.

Harry put the tray down on the table in front of the settee. Xenophilius tentatively approached, wringing his hands together, then moved to clear himself a seat.

"L-Luna is down beyond Bottom Bridge. She is very excited that you are here and is going to catch enough Plumpies to make soup for us. For now, how… how about some of my infusion of Gurdyroot?"

He turned to the coffee table, picking up the tea pot. Hermione went to sit down at the settee, but the rattling tea pot distracted her. Xenophilius was shaking like a leaf. Harry noticed and moved over.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I don't mean to… scare you. A lot of people are after me. I guess I'm a bit paranoid."

"Understandable," Xenophilius said without looking up at Harry. He poured out a cup and straightened, handing it to Harry. Their eyes met - or at least - the eye that wasn't pointing to Xenophilius's nose met Harry's. Harry took the cup and Xenophilius continued to pour.

"So… how may I help you both?" Xenophilius asked. Hermione saw then how vividly purple the drink was, as dark purple as beetroot juice. Harry went to sit down next to Hermione.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's actually about… well… the Deathly Hallows."

Xenophilius's hold on the teapot slipped and it clashed against the cup loudly. He straightened at once, gaping at Harry, his mouth almost comically wide. He stared at Harry, eyes almost bulging out of his face.

"Y-you're on the Quest?"

Hermione glanced across at Harry who recoiled a little. He studied the cup in his hands, his brow furrowing as he thought of what to say.

"In a way, yes," he answered, "I can't say too much, but I've reason to believe that Dumbledore wanted me to find the Hallows and use them, well, against him. "

Xenophilius recovered from his surprise and finished pouring out the infusion. He picked up a cup and carried it over to Hermione, his eyes never leaving Harry as he did. Hermione took the cup before he accidentally spilled it over her.

"Dumbledore?" He spoke the name softly, turning from the pair, his face turning over to the window. "Yes, yes I see. Albus forsook the Quest after he took up his teaching post at Hogwarts. But I often suspected that he didn't completely abandon it."

Hermione glanced over to Harry as Xenophilius went to get his own cup before sitting in the chair that faced the settee.

"You knew him?"

"Everyone knew Albus Dumbledore," Xenophilius said with a laugh as he sat down after adding many sugar lumps in his drink. The nervous fear that had him trembling had suddenly vanished and instead, his face was lit up with a passionate glee, inspired.

"But you know about him being on the Quest… I hadn't even heard of the Hallows before and they aren't mentioned by that name in The Tale of Three Brothers ."

Xenophilius nodded sagely as he sipped at his drink. Hermione chose then to try it. She nearly spat it out. It was rancid.

"While some Questers like myself wear the symbol proudly. Others keep it to themselves. And then… there are those who wish to acquire the Hallows for their own gain… and target other Questers to deal with the competition." He raised his head. "The Quest became tainted after Gellert Grindelwald paraded the symbol as his own."

Hermione saw Harry's face crumple in a wince after he drank his drink, disguising a cough with clearing his throat.

"Right. Well… I was at Bill and Fleur's wedding," Harry explained, "and I spoke to Krum. He said that the pendant you were wearing was Grindelwald's mark."

"That Knuckle-headed wizard tried to attack me over ignorance," Xenophilius said bitterly, "believing the Deathly Hallows to be a sign of evil… well, certainly the Elder Wand can be argued as an instrument of malcontent, but the other two? The resurrection stone? The Cloak of Invisibility?"

Hermione shifted awkwardly in her seat and she refrained from looking at Harry. They had agreed to keep the cloak a secret.

"Hang on," Harry put his fingers on his forehead, leaning into them, "if Grindelwald used the symbol openly, then he was on the Quest too?"

Xenophilius stared at him for a moment, then he drank a large gulp of the infusion, stomaching it as if it was as pleasant as pumpkin juice.

"Very few wizards know the symbol for what it is, Mr Potter. Few know that there are three instruments, crafted by Death itself, which can give their wielder dominion over life itself. Such objects in the hands of someone like Grindelwald…"

Hermione inwardly cringed at the absurdity of Death being an actual person, much less making the Hallows. She saw Harry glance at her.

"Mr Lovegood, Sir," Harry cleared his throat, bringing his attention back to him. "I know in the Tale of Three Brothers, the story says that Death himself granted the brothers their gifts, but it never says anything about bringing them together."

In response, Xenophilius picked up a quill from a table at his elbow. He plucked up some torn but blank parchment.

"That comes from the symbol itself, Mr Potter… allow me to show you."

Harry and Hermione both leaned forwards. He drew a straight vertical line.

"The Elder wand." Then added the circle on top of the line. "The Resurrection Stone." Last, he enclosed them both within a triangle. "The Cloak of Invisibility. Together, they make the Deathly Hallows."

"But then… the name and the symbol," Hermione said, glancing at Harry, "where do they come from?"

"From the Peverell brothers who were the three brothers," Mr Lovegood said, gazing at the symbol, "Cadmus, Antioch and Ignotius. The tale is no mere children's story meant to teach young ones to be careful what they wish for. It is real and… whether or not it is to be believed that the Peverells retrieved the Hallows from Death itself or not, it is clear they are uncommonly powerful. There is no wand as powerful as the Elder Wand."

He tapped the parchment where he had sketched the Elder Wand.

"The pages of history are splattered with the bloody trail of the Elder Wand. The unbeatable wand. Only by killing the wielder can one possess it for themselves. You may have heard of the other names it goes by. The Deathstick. The Wand of Destiny."

Hermione pursed her lips, not wanting to begrudgingly acknowledge that those wands did in fact exist. Wielded by dark wizards who did unspeakable things with wands that they boasted were more powerful than any other. But they met their grizzly ends.

She saw that Harry had gone a little pale.

"The wielder has… has to be killed? "

"The possessor of the wand must capture it from its previous owner if he is to be truly the master of it," Xenophilius explained, "those on the hunt for the wand take that to mean killing the previous possessor, yes. Egbert the Egregious slaughtered Emeric the Evil for the wand. Hereward murdered his own father…then there is dreadful Loxias… yes… it appears that the Elder Wand will only truly serve one who spills the blood of its previous wielder."

Hermione eyed him, stunned by the names that he was listing off. They were real dark wizards, ones that had come up in History of Magic lessons.

Could it really be that the Elder Wand is real?

"But… to believe that Death made the Elder Wand?" Hermione burst out. "Surely the Peverells were just uncommonly powerful wizards?"

Mr Lovegood gave a low grumble.

"That is a topic of great dispute among Questers. Whether or not Death played a role in their creation, no one knows. Although, some believe that the Peverells left the secret to be discovered and that it is only by uniting the Hallows will the truth be revealed."

Hermione scowled. It all sounded ridiculous, but she couldn't deny that Dumbledore's involvement gave what Xenophilius was saying some credence. If Dumbledore had once believed that the Hallows were real and was guiding her and Harry from beyond the grave to take up the Quest, she couldn't dismiss it.

"What does it mean for someone to be Master of Death?" Harry asked, his voice a little hushed. Hermione glanced over, noticing how pale Harry had gone and how wide his eyes had gone.

Harry doesn't believe this, does he?

"It is… believed," Xenophilius licked at his lips, gazing intently at Harry, "that being in possession of all three Deathly Hallows will make one impossible to kill."

Harry leaned forward, putting the cup down in front of him. It all then made sense. Why Dumbledore had put them on the quest. The horcrux mission would help Harry kill Voldemort, but it was the Hallow quest that would save Harry from being killed himself.

He knew Harry had the cloak. But what about the others?

She glanced at Harry, seeing that he was lost in his own thoughts, so she took over.

"Are there any leads on the Elder Wand?" She asked him. Xenophilius sighed.

"The trail went cold with Arcus and Livius. Who can say which of them really defeated Loxias, and which took the wand? And who can say who may have defeated them? Alas, History does not tell us." He lifted his chin and gazed out to the wind. "There are… of course rumours. Many throughout the ages have boasted possession, only to get themselves killed for it. I suspect that the last owner kept the secret to themselves."

Harry's head jerked up.

"Gregorovich?" he said quietly. Xenophilius looked shocked.

"Ho- how do you know-?"

"It doesn't matter how," Harry said quickly, "but he was rumoured, right?"

"Yes, though it was believed that it was talk for him to sell his wands," Xenophilius said, "there were also rumours that Grindelwald succeeded in his quest and possessed the wand - though if he did, it did him no good. He was defeated in the end."

By Dumbledore.

Hermione could see the unanswered questions all coming together, wrapping around the two names that kept coming up. Grindelwald and Dumbledore. It was inevitable now, she realised. She and Harry had to speak to Grindelwald. If he did know where the Elder Wand was, not only could such a wand help Harry against Voldemort, but they would have to find it before Voldemort did. It was a race, she realised, a race to the unbeatable wand.

Xenophilius finished his Gurdyroot infusion and rose from his seat. He shuffled over to the tray, giving the window a nervous look. Hermione noticed a huge grey horn hanging beside the window. She frowned at it, trying to place what it was. Her gaze ran over the markings at the base and her eyes flew wide.

"Mr Lovegood! Is that what I think it is?" She asked, panicked, getting to her feet. Xenophilius jumped at her abrupt shout, following her gaze.

"That is the horn of a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack," he said, rather proudly. She looked at him, aghast.

"No it isn't."

Harry softly moaned under his breath.

"Not now, Hermione," he said quietly.

"Harry, if I'm not mistaken, that's an Erumpent Horn."

Harry raised his head, frowning at her, then looked over to the horn, puzzled. Xenophilius looked a little irritated.

"I was sold it by a lovely gentleman who knew of my interest in the Snorkack. I bought it as a Christmas surprise for-." He stopped talking, an expression of great sorrow morphing his features before he looked away. He shook his head suddenly. "L-Luna should be finished by now but I'll… get us some soup." The energetic fervour that he possessed while talking about the Hallows disappeared as he appeared fiercely nervous once again. He stepped forward, walking into the table, causing the crockery to rattle. "I… won't be just a moment."

He hurried off to the stairs. Harry sighed, annoyed.

"Hermione, you didn't have to-."

"Harry - that horn could detonate at the slightest touch!" She wheeled on him, gesturing at it. "Whoever sold him that horn is trying to assassinate him!"

Harry grimaced. "Right… so he has a bomb in his house? Great." He then chewed on his lip. "I think we have what we came for… let's say hi to Luna and then take our leave before he blows us up."

Hermione nodded, relieved at his decision. Harry pushed himself up from the settee, moving to head for the stairs, but he hesitated, turning away.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him as he went over to the desk where the map of his movements had been laid out.

"Getting rid of evidence," he said, taking off some of the notes.

Hermione walked over to join him, passing the printing press as she did. A familiar face caught her attention and she looked over. She froze in her step. Blinking furiously up at her was Harry, slightly younger, the photograph being one that had been snapped of him a couple of years ago, but it was undeniably him.

"Harry…"

She picked up the top copy, her hands feeling numb. He looked over his shoulder at her. Unlike the photograph, Harry in front of her was puzzled and curious, his hair neat and short, his scar a vivid slash of angles on his forehead, in plain view. She showed him the cover.

He was across the distance between them in a flash. He took it from her hands, tearing through the magazine.

"What the hell?"

"I think we have to leave. Now."

"But Luna…"

"I know… maybe she isn't aware," she said, hating the betrayed look on Harry's face. He then angrily stormed off to the stairs.

"Harry!"

Before he could reach the stairs, Xenophilius was back. He carried a tray laden with bowls. Harry held the magazine tightly as he went to confront his supposed supporter.

"Mr Lovegood," Harry said, "going for a new angle, then?" He threw the magazine down at his feet, the cover facing up at them. Harry's face blinked at them. The words across the cover damning - Undesirable Number One - at large.

"It - it's not what it looks like," Mr Lovegood said weakly.

Hermione then looked at the tray, seeing three bowls.

"Mr Lovegood?" She moved to Harry's side, staring at the bowls. Her mind raced to the clues that she had missed. How none of Luna's shoes were at the door, how Luna hadn't come back with her father, how Xenophilius had been surprised at their appearance when Luna knew that they had planned to visit.

"Where is Luna?"

Harry's head snapped over to her, his eyes wide.

"I… I told you. She's fishing for Plimpies…"

"Then why have you only laid that tray for three?" Hermione asked him. Harry looked at the tray, his sharp, green eyes seeing what Hermione had seen. He went for his wand.

Xenophilius dropped the tray, the bowls bounced and smashed loudly. He drew his wand as did Harry. He was armed in a blink.

"Is that why you went out? To send an owl to the Ministry?" He asked in a low, angry voice. Hermione's heart jumped at his words.

"Harry, we have to go…"

She advanced, moving to the stairs, but Xenophilius gave a wail and spread his arms, moving in the way, blocking their exit. Hesitation bloomed in Harry's eyes and he lowered his wand a little.

"Don't make us hurt you," Harry said, "Get out of the way."

"N-no. You can't leave," Mr Lovegood stammered. "They have her. Luna. Because of what I've been writing about you… and they took her and I don't know where she is, or what they've done to her. But they might give her back to me if I…"

"Hand over Harry?" Hermione finished for him, aghast at what she was hearing. "Don't you know what they will do to him?"

"Th-they will be here any moment." Xenophilius looked over to the window. "I must save Luna. I cannot lose her."

"Who did you message? Who's coming?" Harry demanded. Xenophilius backed, terrified at the furious look on Harry's face, now matching the glare from the magazine at his feet. Hermione could see figures on broomsticks flying past the window. She rushed over, grabbing Harry's arm.

"No time, Harry, portkey…"

At the word, Xenophilius let out a loud cry and tore across to Harry. Not wanting to hurt the man even though he had sold them out, Harry staggered back as the man grabbed his left arm, stopping him from reaching for his pouch and the portkey inside it.

"You can't leave! You're the one they want!" Xenophilius screeched. As he struggled against Harry, Hermione came to help, pulling Harry free. Anguished, Xenophilius wailed again and pointed his wand directly at Harry's face.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione stepped between him and Harry, shielding. The red jet ricocheted off. Hermione glanced, horror bleaching her thoughts as the spell made a beeline for the huge, grey horn.

There was a colossal explosion. Hermione screamed as the air was rent apart, the blast slamming into her ears. Her shield protected her from the force, but the rest of the room wasn't so lucky. Rubble flew in all directions, paper, wood, furniture, all blasted back as the horn exploded.

There was a sickening thud behind her and a crash. She turned.

"Petr… Petrificus Totallus."

Her arms snapped to her sides, legs snapping together. Immediately, she toppled, unable to stop her fall. Her side crashed into the floor, landing in the rubble. Mouth locked shut, she could only move her eyes as she listened, in horror, to the sobs of their betrayer. Her gaze was locked on Harry, who had been blasted against the wall and was stirring, his movements cumbersome. She could do nothing as Xenophilius stumbled over the rubble towards Harry, who was concussed and dazed. He slumped from where his head had struck the wall hard, leaving a smear of blood.

"You-you're the one they want," Mr Lovegood said to Harry, who raised his head, looking up at him. "I… I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," Harry said softly, his voice faint as he looked on the brink of passing out.

Xenophilius took Harry's wand, his sobs getting louder as he slapped Harry's hands away as he weakly went to stop him. He then spelled a rope to coil around Harry's wrists. Harry's eyes met Hermione's as he was bound.

"Just… me…" He said. "I'm the one they want."

Hermione screamed behind her sealed mouth. Harry rocked back his bleeding head, staring at her, trying to communicate with his eyes alone.

"Trade me for… Luna, but leave Hermione out… out of this," Harry stared up at Xenophilius, his eyes going unfocused. When Xenophilius backed from him, Harry swung forward, grabbing the man's nightshirt with his bound hands.

"Please… just me." He said, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped to his side, out cold.

There was then a loud crash downstairs. Xenophilius spun, his wild, crooked eyes landing on Hermione. His mouth was open in a mute scream of utter horror. Tears streaked his face. He raised his wand, pointing at her.

"Y-yes… very well… upstairs. The girl… upstairs and then… Luna. I… I must save Luna."

Before he stunned her, Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Harry, filling her mind with thoughts of him. Whatever happened next, wherever he would be taken, she would find him. She knew that they wouldn't kill him right away. He was too valuable a prisoner, too much of a prize.

Then she understood what Harry had been trying to tell her, his fading green eyes pushing a thought across the space between them. When the red flash of the stunning spell blazed, his silent thought whispered through her mind.

I love you.


AN: 'In The Bleak Midwinter' is my personal favourite Christmas carol. The one here is the Gustav Holst arrangement. Here - watch?v=9FDgRXPSv3U

A lot of primary schools in the UK have assemblies as part of the school day, during which there are songs and hymns sung. During Christmas, there would be carols, so Harry and Hermione would have knowledge of Christmas carols from that. I still remember them from it!

I thought that child Harry would be more focused on the carols that are less joyous and more sombre as Christmas wouldn't have been a happy time for him. Harry being able to carry a tune, albeit a sad one, moves Hermione as she sees more of his soul beneath it all.

Plus, this bit of the story is set on 21st December - midwinter.