"No," Ron said firmly.
"I didn't even ask anything yet!" Hermione said, hands on her hips as she stood by the door to the tent.
Harry rolled his eyes behind their backs and wondered what on earth they were squabbling about this time. His main guesses were food, the Horcruxes, food, visiting the Burrow, food, the relative importance of Quidditch in the scope of the universe, and possibly food, not necessarily in that order.
"You don't need to ask," Ron said, waving his hand as though he were swatting away a fly. "I know you well enough to know what you want to do, and I'm not doing it."
"Oh, I don't even need to speak anymore," Hermione said, turning an angry red. "Have you become a Legilimens or am I simply that predictable?"
"On this, yes, you're predictable," Ron said. "I am not drinking that concoction again."
"What concoction?" Hermione said, looking completely confused.
"Polyjuice. I've had it with that swill! I don't care if we need to search the neighboring village for some ruddy artefact like Slytherin's toenail clippings or Hufflepuff's second best soufflé pan. I'll do it in my own face or not at all. That last bloke tasted of something I had to scrape off the bedpans in the Hospital Wing," Ron said, throwing himself on the couch with a sense of finality.
"I was going to ask you to get the spare valise down from the top of the cupboard because you're taller than I am and I can't find the stepstool I usually use to get up there," Hermione said in a tightly controlled voice.
"Oh," Ron said, deflating slightly. "Okay, that wasn't what I thought."
Harry took a steadying breath and decided to chalk this one up to his second guess: Horcruxes.
"Have you happened to see the stepstool?" Hermione asked.
"Um, I think I took it into the kitchen to check the top of the refrigerator when I misplaced my shoes. It's under the sink," Ron said.
"Why would you put it under the sink of all places?" Hermione said, exasperated.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Ron said shrugging. "So we don't need to look around here for relics of the founders or something?"
"Not at the moment," Hermione said. "I picked this spot because it was out of the way, not because of any particular association with the Horcruxes. I think it might help if we took a day or two just to think what our next move should be."
"So we're out of ideas," Ron said, grimacing.
"No, we are most certainly not out of ideas," Hermione said, still looking angry. "I've got a few dozen possibilities, but as none of them is standing out especially, I thought prioritizing our options would be sensible."
"Sorry," Ron said with a mock bow from his seat, "I should have said we're out of any good ideas."
"Please feel free to contribute to the pool of possibilities at any time," Hermione said icily.
"Home," Ron said at once.
"Immediately to be apprehended by Death Eaters and have your parents face possible execution as blood traitors?" Hermione said, glaring at him.
"We don't know that!" Ron yelled. "For all we know, they're already dead or something. Can't we just pop in under the Cloak and see if they're at least okay?"
"We'd have heard something on the wireless if there had been an attack on the Burrow," Hermione said, sounding less angry. "It's so dangerous, I don't think we can do it in good conscience. It's not worth it if it means risking their lives, Ron."
Ron seemed like he wanted to say something, but instead he simply sighed and looked morose again.
"I suppose you're right," Ron said. "I'm hungry. Is there anything left to eat?"
"Two donuts that haven't gone stale yet, a couple pears, and half a packet of crisps," Hermione said.
"Are they jelly donuts?" Ron said hopefully, and Harry wondered for the millionth time how he could switch between moods so quickly.
"One is, yes," Hermione said. "Take it. It's in the paper sack by the sink."
Ron left, and Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances. Ron was still experiencing far more of the Horcrux's mood altering properties than either of them was, but most of the time it didn't last too long. Harry was starting to wish they'd brought another person with them, maybe Luna or even Neville, just to make it so the three of them weren't constantly in one another's face. On top of that, Harry had wanted to the jelly donut himself, and he was now feeling grumpy himself.
"The other donut is chocolate dip," Hermione said as though she completely understood what he was thinking. "Feel free. I've already had a cinnamon one."
Maybe it was the chocolate, Lupin's old remedy for Dementors, but Harry began to feel better as soon as the donut passed his lips.
"Where'd you get these?" Ron asked, his mouth still full and his lips smeared in sugar.
"A bakery in the town yesterday," Hermione said, looking a bit guilty.
"You stole them?" Ron said conversationally without the least bit of accusation in his voice.
"Oh, I hate being a thief!" Hermione said, and Harry was surprised by just how vehemently she said it. "I would have put Muggle money in the till, but there were so many people there I was afraid I'd bump into someone and the Cloak would fall off and then where would we be."
"Hungry," Ron replied, wiping his mouth with his fist, "and possibly sighted. We don't have any other choices I can see, though, unless we're going through dustbins, which we've done often enough."
Harry shuddered. While it was true sometimes they'd haunted alleyways behind fairly posh restaurants and managed to cadge a few really decent meals from the rejects of the customers, there was also the possibility of rats popping out of nowhere, and ever since Scabbers, he really didn't care for them.
"I suppose," Hermione admitted, but it was obvious her conscience was still bothering her.
"If it's any consolation, I highly doubt the police are going to knock down our door over a few donuts and the occasional pie," Harry said.
"Maybe not, but it's the principle of the thing. Getting caught or not, it's still wrong," she said, then she added with a slight smile, "and you never know just who or what might wind up breaking into a thieves' lair."
"That sounds like one of your mad stories," Ron said, perking up.
"As it happens, there is one about that," Hermione said. "I take it you want to hear it?"
"Indubitably," Ron said, licking the last of the sugar from his mouth. Harry noticed Hermione looking away with a blush and rolled his eyes for the thousandth time.
"Yes, well, upon once a time, I mean, once upon a time," Hermione said, still a little flustered.
"Points off for that," Ron said.
"An old donkey lived on a farm," Hermione said. "He had worked very hard for the farmer all his life, pulling his plow, helping him ride into town, and doing all sorts of jobs."
"Mum could do with one of those," Ron said.
"What would she do with a donkey?" Harry asked. "It's not like you farm at the Burrow."
"No, but I think he'd be company," Ron said. "With the whole lot of us gone during the year, even the owls, it's got to be a bit lonely during the day. Donkeys seem like nice, calm, friendly sorts."
"I suppose so," Hermione said. "At least she has the ghoul to talk to a bit now, though."
"Yeah, not much conversation there," Ron said. "Mostly just 'Ahhhahhooooo!' Gotta get boring after a bit. So we've got a hardworking, loyal donkey ready for retirement. What's his name?"
"Most stories don't give him one," Hermione said. "He's just the donkey."
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.
"Floppy," he finally said, "because of the floppy ears."
"Floppy the donkey?" Harry said, trying not to laugh. It sounded like a character on a children's television programme.
"Yeah," Ron said, nodding. "Floppy."
"I rather like it," Hermione said, hiding a smile herself. "However, Floppy was not destined for a leisurely retirement."
Ron shot her a suspicious look.
"I'm going to want to smack someone, aren't I," he said.
"Most likely," Hermione said. "You see, the farmer who owned him was talking to his wife, and the donkey overheard him saying he was planning on selling him to a skinner."
"I don't think I even need to ask what that is," Ron said, looking livid. "The nerve! The donkey slaves for him for years and he goes and something like—like—THAT?!"
Harry could actually hear both the question mark and the exclamation point separately in Ron's sentence along with the caps lock word. He could sympathize as he went through a phase like that in his fifth year. At least Ron was directing his anger towards someone who wasn't them for once, though.
"I'm afraid so," Hermione said, "but the donkey wasn't having any of that.
"Well, good for Floppy!" Harry said, rather surprised by how upset he sounded as well. Ron and Hermione looked at him. "What? I think the farmer's a prat too."
"So what did he do?" Ron asked.
"He ran away, heading for the city of Bremen," Hermione said. "He planned to become a musician there and be world famous."
"Okay, as plans go, that's on the unique side, bordering on mad, but good for him for having a dream," Ron said, then muttered, "and burning the farmer's house down into the bargain wouldn't be out of place either."
"I heard that," Hermione said, "and I can't condone arson. But I do sympathize with the concept here."
"So the donkey took off for Bremen?" Ron said. "Where's that?"
"Oh, it's a real Muggle city in northwest Germany," Hermione said. "It's fairly large, and when the story was first told, it would probably have been rather exotic to country folk."
"Well, at the very least he's away from the farmer," Ron said. "What happened next?"
"After a few days, he was walking along the road, and he came upon an old dog who had collapsed near the verge, panting and puffing as though he had been running a great distance," Hermione said. "The donkey asked him what was his trouble."
"See, I like this donkey," Ron said approvingly. "He's nice to the dog. Again, he should live with Mum."
"He is rather polite and kind, now that you mention it," Hermione said. "Actually, he reminds me a little of Dobby, really."
"Yeah, selling an old house-elf to a skinner sounds like something a Malfoy would do, too," Ron said with a scowl.
"And Dobby got away as well," Hermione said. "I do hope he's all right."
"I have a feeling he's doing fine," Harry said. "He's got more than his own share of magic after all."
"I suppose," Hermione said, but she still looked worried. "In any case, the dog explained how he had herded sheep for his master for years and gone out into the moors to pick up geese for him when they would hunt. However, now that he was growing old, his master had turned against him and wanted to kill him."
"What is wrong with these people!" Ron yelled.
"Calm down, Ronald, it's only a story," Hermione said, a look of concern on her face.
"Yeah, but these stories all have a grain of truth to them, don't they?" he said fiercely. "Can you honestly tell me there aren't Muggles who would do that sort of thing?"
"Unfortunately, no, I can't," Hermione admitted. "They certainly aren't the majority, though."
"I should hope not!" Ron said, folding his arms emphatically, then taking a deep breath. "So what happened to the dog?"
"He too had run away, and the donkey told him that he was going to Bremen to become a famous musician, and if the dog liked, he could come along and they could start a band. The dog could kick a kettledrum with his legs, and the donkey would strum a lute with his hooves," Hermione said.
"Again, that is a nice donkey," Ron said.
"You're right," Harry said. "He actually does sound like Dobby."
"Granted, Dobby being nice sent you to the Hospital Wing if I recall, but the intention was good," Ron said. "I'm assuming the dog went with him."
"He did indeed, with his spirits much restored, and when he grew weary from walking, the donkey let him ride on his back for a bit," Hermione said.
"That would have stood out rather a lot," Ron said. "I'd be worried that the two owners might hear about them and try to take them back, but as they don't want them to begin with, I'm guessing they're probably not even looking."
"No, they never really come back into the story again," Hermione said. "After a few more days, they came across an old cat who was mewing sadly by the side of the road. 'What's wrong?' they both asked, and the cat explained that she had been a good mouser for her mistress for many long years and had kept the mice and rats from the granary. Now, though, she was growing too old to catch them, and her mistress had decided to drown her."
"I am starting to really hate these people," Ron said in an almost frighteningly nonchalant tone. "Seriously. These are awful human beings."
"I take it the cat ran away from home as well?" Harry jumped in.
"Yes, and the donkey and dog suggested that the cat could join their band, perhaps as a singer, and they could go on to Bremen together," Hermione said. "The cat, very happy with the plan, agreed at once, and they continued down the road to Bremen as quite a merry group."
"The dog didn't have a problem with a cat joining them?" Ron said.
"No," Hermione said. "Quite a few dogs and cats get along, after all, and these two in particular had good reasons to band together, so I don't recall any versions that say they quarreled."
"I suppose," Ron said, but he still looked unconvinced. "It's a little unusual, you have to admit."
"If it were one of Aunt Marge's dogs, I'd agree," Harry said, "but Fang gets along pretty well with all the cats at Hogwarts, or at least lets them alone. It depends on the dog."
"And the cat," Ron said. "Auntie Muriel used to have one that seemed to hate every living being on the planet, well, except for Auntie Muriel. She doted on her."
"Fair enough," Harry said, "but the animals in this story all seem pretty calm and reasonable."
"More than the people at any rate," Ron said, frowning again. "So the three of them go on to Bremen?"
"Yes, but along the way they met a rooster," Hermione said.
"Wait, there's a fourth one?" Ron said, looking surprised.
"Yes. Why is that so strange?" Hermione asked.
"Because these stories almost always have sets of three in them," Ron said. "Three balls for Ashyweeper, three bears in the story about the porridge that cools against all the rules of science, three architecturally challenged pigs, three times the evil step-mother tries to poison the girl who lives with the seven dwarfs—"
"And three times Jack climbs the beanstalk, three goats on the bridge with the troll, three times Rumpelstiltskin spins straw into gold, three kinds of trees in the forest outside the castle with the dancing princesses," Harry added.
"Hmm," Hermione said, almost as though she were talking to herself. "The magical qualities of the number three, along with the ability to memorize ideas more easily via a triad particularly in a culture where stories are passed on orally, had long been an established part of the underlying structure of fairy tales. The concept that four is used here instead of three actually is highly unusual. Perhaps it's meant to underscore the upset of the common order typified by the animals running from their various human masters, or maybe the story itself has mutated in retellings and one of the animals is a later addition, though I've never heard it any other way. On the whole, it's a perplexing deviation the more I think of it."
"Or bands tend to do better with four members rather than three," Ron said.
"It could be the musical underpinnings of the story at that, though I'm still not entirely satisfied with that explanation," Hermione said.
"It worked for John, Paul, George, and Ringo," Harry said.
"Who?" Ron asked.
"They were a very popular group called the Beatles," Hermione said.
"Like… bugs?" Ron asked.
"No, it was just a name," Hermione said, "and it was spelled differently."
"What's a Ringo?" Ron asked.
"He was the drummer," Harry said.
"Whatever," Ron said, obviously giving up on ever understanding Muggle culture. "So they met a rooster."
"Yes, and he was sitting on a fencepost and crowing pitifully," Hermione said. "They asked him what was wrong, and he said that for many years he had crowed at daybreak to wake his masters and bring the sun up."
"The rooster thought it made the sun come up?" Ron said. "Bit narcissistic, isn't he?"
"Well, he didn't know any better, and he took the job seriously," Hermione said. "Anyway, now that he was growing old, his mistress said that she wanted him made into a soup for her guests who are coming the next day, for it would be fine weather since that is was the day Our Lady washes the Christ child's little shirts and wants to hang them out to dry."
"Okay, I followed pretty much all of that until the last extremely weird bit. It's what day now?" Ron asked.
"It's a very odd insert in the story, but it pops up in almost every version of it. The upshot of it is if the Virgin Mary wanted to hang out her laundry to dry, it would be sure to be good weather, so the rooster was predicting a sunny day and good travel for his mistress's guests," Hermione said.
"So… they're walking to Bremen from Bethlehem?" Ron asked.
"What? No," Hermione said. "It's apparently just something people used to say about good weather, like if it was raining really hard they'd say the old the old man in the sky was snoring if it thundered."
"Oh. Good, because for a second there I thought they were going to have one awfully long walk," Ron said. "I take it the donkey, dog, and cat invite the rooster to come along with them?"
"Yes, the rooster agreed and became another singer, and they traveled on very happily down the road to Bremen," Hermione said.
"Is anyone else going to join them?" Ron asked.
"No, the group stays at four," Hermione said.
"Good," Ron said. "I was afraid there was going to be a depressed goldfish next or something."
"A… depressed… goldfish…," Hermione said slowly.
"Hey, this one had a semi-suicidal rooster in it who nearly wound up as soup. I think an unhappy goldfish is entirely in keeping with this travesty. Maybe his owner wanted sushi," Ron said, nodding firmly.
Harry watched as Hermione ran her palms over her forehead, taking a deep breath.
"Anyway, the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the rooster continued down the road together, all of them feeling much better now that they had a goal in life. As night approached, they saw a dim glow in the distance, and when they came nearer, they saw a little house with lights burning in the windows," Hermione said.
"Wait," Ron said, interrupting her just as she was using her spookiest voice.
"Yes?" Hermione said with a voice at the edge of patience.
"Would this little house happen to be in the middle of a forest?" Ron asked.
"Actually, yes, now that you mention it," Hermione said.
Ron looked at Harry sadly and said, "They're all going to die, aren't they."
"What? No! This isn't one of those cottages," Hermione said. "Well, it is, but it isn't!"
"Remind me that if we ever bump into a forest cottage in our wanderings, we head in the other direction as fast as possible," Ron said.
"Agreed," Harry said, then glanced at Hermione, who looked a bit cross at being interrupted yet again. "So, ehm, what did the animals do?"
"Yeah," Ron said, going back into an attitude of intense attention. "What'd they do?"
"Well, as the tallest, the donkey went up to the window very cautiously and peered in to see who might be there," Hermione said.
"And what did Floppy see?" Ron asked.
It must have been the rather adorable name that melted Hermione because she smiled a bit before saying, "Robbers!"
"That isn't so bad. At least it isn't a cannibalistic witch or homicidal bears," Ron said with a shrug.
"The donkey returned to his friends and explained what he had seen, but he also mentioned that the table in front of the four robbers was laden with the most amazing, rich, wonderful food," Hermione said.
"Food?" Ron and Harry said simultaneously.
"Yes, a whole feast's worth," Hermione said. "Since the four humans were robbers to begin with, the animals decided to get the food for themselves, for all of them were very hungry."
"Which is an issue with the cat and the rooster in particular," Ron said.
Hermione rolled her eyes but continued onward, saying, "They hatched a plan to take the cabin for themselves."
"Hatched? I thought the rooster was a boy," Ron said.
"Not literally hatched," Hermione said, and Harry suspected that she might be about to explode.
"Okay, so how do a donkey, a dog, a cat, and a rooster outwit four robbers?" Harry said quickly.
"Well, they all got outside the window. Then the dog jumped on the donkey's back, the cat on the dog's back, and the rooster on the cat's back in a tall tower," Hermione said.
"So, like a totem pole?" Harry asked.
"Yes, precisely!" Hermione said, very pleased.
"A what?" Ron asked.
"Certain Native American tribes take felled tree trunks and carve them with images of people or animals that tell a story or represent culturally important concepts or history, then set them upright as decoration. And most commonly, there's an eagle or bird at the top, just like the rooster!" Hermione said. "I wonder if there was some sort of cultural exchange between the Pacific Northwest and the area of Germany around Bremen during the time period of the creation of the story. It really is a fascinating parallel that I'd never caught before at any rate. Well done, Harry!"
Ron was now glaring daggers at Harry, who quickly added, "Oh, um, just saw a documentary from the BBC about those things a few years ago is all."
"So what happened after they all jumped on one another's backs, making poor Floppy probably slip a disc or something?" Ron asked, still sounding a bit sulky.
"They decided to try out their music," Hermione said, and she actually giggled. "Of course, they had no instruments, and honestly I'm not really sure how the donkey could have played a lute without any opposable thumbs anyway, so instead they all sang."
"Sang?" Ron asked.
"More specifically, the donkey brayed at the top of his lungs, the dog barked as loud as he could, the cat screeched and caterwauled, and the rooster crowed loud enough to wake the dead, all four of them at once," Hermione said.
"Oh, that could definitely be a top ten hit on the Wizarding Wireless," Ron said.
"I wouldn't doubt it with some of the things out there, but the robbers, who were naturally paranoid to begin with, were terrified by the strange, unearthly noise. 'It's a ghost!' one of them cried, and they all ran out of the cottage pell-mell into the darkness," Hermione said.
"Bit of a stretch to think it's a ghost, and not all that bright to go running through the woods in the dark," Ron said.
"If you've ever seen a Muggle horror movie, though, that's about what they all do," Hermione said. "Something horrible pops out of the shadows and they automatically run to the stupidest, least safe place possible."
"Really?" Ron said.
"I've never actually seen one," Harry said, shrugging. "Part of the Dursleys' attempt to keep out anything magic related."
"Oh! When we get back, I'm making you both watch the whole Friday the 13th series," Hermione said, grinning. "You won't sleep for a week! I didn't."
"Yeah, that sound like, uh, fun," Ron said, though his expression clearly said otherwise. "Anyway, the robbers vacated the house, so what did the animals do?"
"Why, they waltzed right in and ate all the wonderful food left on the table, having a simply marvelous meal," Hermione said.
"Now that part I like," Ron said, smiling.
"After they'd eaten their fill, each chose the place he or she liked best to sleep. The donkey found a comfortable pile of hay in one corner, the dog slept just behind the door, the cat curled up on the hearth next to the glowing embers, and the rooster flew up to the ceiling rafters and huddled in for the night, warm, safe, and dry," Hermione said.
"There's going to be a problem," Ron said immediately. "This is too happy, and it sounds too much like that Goldilocks story."
"What?" Hermione said.
"They find a house, they eat, then they pick comfortable beds," Ron said, counting the events off on his fingers. "The robbers are going to come back next, aren't they."
"Actually, yes," Hermione said, very surprised. "I'd never noticed that parallel before!"
"See? I pay attention too," Ron said, throwing what Harry thought was a rather unnecessarily nasty look at him.
"Yes, well done," Hermione said, who also seemed to have noted that. "Anyway, the robbers, when they had regained their right minds, realized they must have acted like fools and that all their ill-gotten gains were still in the cottage, so they sent one of their members back to find out what had really happened."
"Poor bloke," Ron said. "I almost feel sorry for him. Probably drew the short straw."
"Why do people even do that?" Harry said.
"I don't really know, but it's been around for centuries," Hermione said. "It's probably a holdover from a religious ceremony of some sort."
"Wait," Ron said, staring at her. "You don't actually know?"
"No, it's only an educated guess," she said.
He turned slowly to Harry and said, "She doesn't know."
Harry gave him an odd look and said, "So?"
"There is something Hermione Granger does not know!" Ron said. "I'm declaring this a national holiday!"
Hermione rolled her eyes as the boys laughed so hard they were rolling on the floor.
"It's not all that funny," she mumbled to herself. "If you've quite collected yourselves?"
"Oh, right, the returning robber," Ron said. "What happened to old Short Straw?"
"He went into the house, not seeing any of the animals as it was quite dark," Hermione said. "However, the cat was awake. The robber saw her eyes glowing in the firelight and thought they were lit coals, so he took his pipe out of his pocket and bent down close to her to light it from what he thought were the flames."
"That is not going to end well," Ron said.
"Well, it depends for whom you mean," Hermione said. "The cat screeched and slashed at him with her claws, waking the other animals. Then the dog bit him in the leg, the donkey kicked him in the back, and rooster shrieked blue murder as the robber ran screaming back into the night."
"How is murder blue?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't it be more logical to scream red murder?"
"Actually, it's a borrowing from the French morbleu, which means to cry out in alarm or surprise, which itself is a corruption of mon Dieu, literally 'Oh my God!' also an expression of distress, but the similar sound of morbleu to mort bleu, or blue death, helped the phrase translate as blue murder in English," Hermione said.
Ron and Harry gave her looks of stunned disbelief.
"Remember, I spent the summer in France once," Hermione said almost apologetically.
"Yeah, most people who summer in France spend their time eating food nobody can pronounce and lying about on the beach getting tan," Ron said, "not looking into the etymology of 'blue murder.'"
"Well, everyone needs a hobby," Hermione said.
"So was that the end of the robber?" Harry asked.
"Not quite," Hermione said. "He went back to the rest of the thieves and said that they couldn't return to the cottage because a horrible pack of monsters had taken up residence there. A terrifying witch with red eyes had slashed at him with her fingernails—"
"That'd be the cat," Ron said.
"—an ogre with a knife had stabbed him in the leg—"
"That's the dog biting him, I think," Ron said.
"—a giant with a club had walloped him in the back—"
"The donkey kicking him," Harry supplied.
"—but worst of all, a judge had screamed out from on high 'Hang them all! Hang them all!'" Hermione said.
"I suppose that would have to be the rooster, but how you get that out of cock-a-doodle-doo I don't know," Ron said.
"To be fair, how do we get cock-a-doodle-doo out of it either?" Harry said.
"Fair point," Ron said. "Throw in his guilty conscience and I'll let it pass. I take it the robbers gave up the cottage as a bad show?"
"Yes, and they never returned again, leaving the really quite cozy cottage to the four animals," Hermione said.
"Didn't they continue on to Bremen?" Harry asked.
"No, though they often practiced their music and talked about going, but what they had really wanted was a home, and that was what they now had, so the four of them lived quite happily ever after," Hermione said.
"Even though it started pretty horrible," Ron said, "I'm happy about how it ended for Floppy, Rover, Puss-Puss, and Cackles."
"Rover, Puss-Puss, and Cackles?" Harry said in disbelief as Hermione giggled again.
"What, you've got better names?" Ron said. "They had a rough go of it. The least we can do is call them something other than dog, cat, and rooster."
"Fine by me," Hermione said. "So the moral of the story is thieves never prosper."
"Well, if we ever come back to the tent and find it occupied by an exceptional nice donkey and his poor abused animal friends all on the lam from their homicidal owners, I'm more than willing to share whatever we've got with them," Ron said, beginning to yawn, "particularly since that's pretty much nothing."
"I suppose, but I still don't like stealing," Hermione said. "I'm keeping a list of all the places where we've taken things, and after the war is over, I'm finding a way to pay them all back properly if I can."
"That's fair," Harry said. "I'll pay my bit."
"Yeah, if we all survive, I'm in as well," Ron said, but the words and his tone both made Harry's blood run cold for a moment. Hermione kept silent, but the words had obviously affected her too.
"Well," Harry said after an awkward silence, "I suppose we should turn in."
"Good idea," Hermione said, obviously happy someone had broken the deafening quiet. "I'm really knackered."
"Same here," Ron said. "Good night."
"Night," she said as she went to her partitioned bedroom.
Harry got into bed and was just about to drift off when he heard Ron say, "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we'll ever actually find what we're looking for? Or should we, you know, sort of be like the Bremen town musicians and figure out we're safest where we are and just wait the whole thing out?" Ron said.
"I don't think waiting it out is an option," Harry said. "If we don't finish this, the ending won't be a happily ever after for anyone."
"I suppose you're right," Ron said, but he sounded more than a little unconvinced. "Night."
Harry's dreams that night were of four animals, but the donkey was a stag, the rooster a rat, and the cat a wolf while the tired farmer's dog took on the shape of his godfather, safe and warm in the Shrieking Shack. He wondered what they would have had to say about their endless quest for Horcruxes and the growing fear that it would be useless, that they should just stay right here and hope someone else would shoulder the burden instead.
"No," Harry said to himself even in his dream. "We have to go on to Bremen. There's no real rest here."
In the dream, the stag looked at him, slowly changing into a donkey with sad eyes, which in turn became Dobby's concerned gaze, but Harry still knew what they had to do.
