The Brave(ry Weird) Little Tailor

For notes, please see the first chapter.

The forests of Albania were deep, and though the chill of winter was in the air, Harry couldn't help feeling that the cold that was cutting through him had less to do with the weather and more with some of the places they had just visited.

"So, that's what happened to Bertha Jorkins," Ron said, shuddering as he re-entered the tent. "Blimey but Wormtail is a nasty bit of work."

Hermione nodded silently, shuddering. They had managed to find the woman's final resting place. Pettigrew had apparently used the same trick Barty Crouch Jr. had on his own father, transfiguring her body, in this case into a stone. The people who had lived nearby had avoided that particular area of the forest for the last several years, claiming that anyone who went there had terrible nightmares about red-eyed demons and eerie green lights. Harry still wasn't quite sure how Muggles had picked up on the dark magic used there, but the stories turned out to have a basis in fact. Hermione's whispered "Reparifarge" in the clearing in question had homed in on the small, unremarkable stone immediately, and then suddenly, Bertha Jorkins's corpse appeared.

"That was horrible," Hermione said, sitting down and staring at the floor between her feet.

"Yeah," Ron said. "The poor woman might not have been the brightest witch about, but that was a terrible thing to do."

"At least we can say we gave her a proper burial," Harry said.

"Yes, but without any family or friends," Hermione said.

"When this is all over, we can tell someone where she's buried," Ron said. "We couldn't very well carry her around, even if we made her a stone again. That wouldn't be too respectful either."

"I know," Hermione said, but her face was still dark. "I still feel dreadful about all of this, though."

"Yeah," Ron said, then added, "and is anyone else worried now that Tommy might have made one of his Horcruxes look like a plain old everyday rock, one we probably tripped right over without noticing?"

"The thought did occur to me," Harry said uncomfortably.

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said, and Harry thought she sounded surer than she probably was. "You-Know-Who didn't care about Bertha. She wasn't a trophy or a bit of him, just another one of his countless victims that he disposed of when she was of no more use. He treated her like rubbish. He wouldn't do that to anything he valued, and he values himself more than anything else."

"Probably," Ron said, but he didn't seem convinced. "It'd be smart, though, having one in reserve that doesn't fit his usual pattern."

"I agree, but honestly," Hermione paused, then said in a rush, "I really don't think he's all that intelligent."

"He's pretty bloody powerful for an idiot," Ron said. "Yes, but so is a troll," Hermione pointed, "and they're not good at planning at all, are they? He botched trying to kill Harry several times already, he doesn't research his plans thoroughly, and his ego gets in the way of accomplishing anything he's trying to do. Honestly, he's a bit like one of those James Bond villains sometimes, blithering on about how brilliant he is rather than doing anything."

"Who's James Bond?" Ron asked.

"This one I know even with my pathetic childhood," Harry said, smiling in spite of himself. "He's a Muggle secret agent in movies and books who has really cool gadgets and about five hundred girlfriends, and he always escapes no matter what ridiculous trap he falls into."

"A fair summation," Hermione said.

"Sounds like a decent story," Ron said. "Why not tell us one of those, Hermione?"

"Because he's rather a sexist pig at times," Hermione said. "Also, some of his adventures are too risqué for comfortable storytelling."

Ron certainly seemed to be paying attention now, Harry thought, and he'd pay good money to hear Hermione try to tell the tale of Dr. No. Uncle Vernon was so fond of Ursula Andress that he'd been completely blind to the fact Harry was watching the TV as well from his place at the sink in the kitchen while washing the dishes. Harry had done the dishes for almost three hours, cleaning everything from the breakfast plates to the Christmas pudding mold, in an effort to see the whole movie. At least there was one thing he could agree with his uncle about.

Ron was still looking highly intrigued with the idea of James Bond, but Harry thought it might be much safer to venture in another direction.

"What about a different one, then?" Harry asked. "Are there any stories that you've got that are just plain bizarre?"

"That'd be all of them, mate," Ron said.

"Oh, there's a few that are very unusual, yes," Hermione said, thinking. "I suppose 'The Brave Little Tailor' would be a difficult one to top."

"Then by all means, let's hear it," Ron said. "I'd rather think of nutty fairy tales then the stuff we've seen today."

"All right then," Hermione said. "Once upon a…"

"…time," Ron joined in automatically.

"Yes, there was a poor tailor who was working very hard when he found it was time for lunch," Hermione said.

"What's he having?" Ron said, and Harry noticed that even with their really rather luxurious breakfast that morning in Italy before Apparating to Albania-a round of ciambellas filled with custard, orange-glazed cornettos, and some truly excellent espresso—he was still ravenous.

"Bread and jam," Hermione said.

"Okay, I'll go with that," Ron said, closing his eyes. "Strawberry… no, raspberry… no, a bit of both."

"Actually, the jam really does play a role in the story. The tailor bought it from a passing peddler, bargaining for it, and then put it on some bread. It smelled so sweet in the noonday sun that a whole group of flies came buzzing through the window, and the tailor had to protect his food from them," Hermione said.

"That's a good deal less appetizing," Ron said dispiritedly.

"Ah, but he managed to pick up a piece of paper and kill seven of them with one blow," Hermione said.

"Seven with just one blow?" Ron said. "Either he's very good at killing flies or else this fellow really has a huge swarm in the shop."

"He was very highly impressed with himself as well, going so far as to embroider a belt with the words 'killed seven with one blow' and wear it around his waist. Then, deciding that a man with this sort of skill shouldn't be only a simple tailor, he decided to go out and seek his fortune in the wide world," Hermione said.

"That seems like he might be taking it a bit far," Harry said.

"The belt alone went beyond taking it a bit far. Deciding his ability to swat flies well qualifies as a sign to give up his job and go looking for adventure is bonkers. He's basing his entire life on a random incident with jam," Ron said. Then he grinned. "I'm already liking this one a lot."

"As the tailor wandered along the road, he found a small bird that had become tangled in some vines. Deciding this too was something he should pay attention to, he quickly freed the bird," Hermione said.

"That was nice of him," Ron said.

"And stuck him in his pocket," Hermione said.

"And that was stupid of him," Ron said. "Good way to wind up with a pocket full of bird poo, not to mention an angry bird pecking your thigh to bits."

"Oddly, it ended up not being as stupid as it seemed," Hermione said, "for only a few minutes later, he met a very large giant coming in the opposite direction."

"I am trying and failing to see how that makes stuffing a bird in his pocket less idiotic," Ron said.

"You'll see. The giant saw the tailor's belt and assumed that it referred to seven men, so he was rather impressed with the puny human and challenged him to a contest of strength," Hermione said.

"Bit of a jump to assume it meant people," Harry said.

"Yes, but who would think someone would be congratulating themselves on fly swatting?" Hermione said.

"Either one would be weird," Ron said. "So what's the strength challenge?"

"The giant picked up a rock and squeezed it in his hand until he made water run out of it," Hermione said.

"Is that physically possible?" Ron asked.

"Theoretically, some rocks can have a water content, but actually squeezing water from a rock is pretty much impossible," Hermione said.

"Right, so what did the tailor do?" Ron asked.

"He bent down to pick up a rock from the ground but secretly switched it with a hunk of cheese he had in his pocket for his lunch," Hermione explained.

"Not the same pocket with the bird in it?" Ron asked.

"No, a different one. Anyway, he squeezed the cheese until whey ran out of it, and the giant was very surprised indeed," Hermione said.

"Bit dim, isn't he, mistaking some cheddar for a rock," Ron said.

"I never said he was an especially smart giant," Hermione pointed out. "Next, the giant challenged him to a throwing competition. This time, he took a rock and threw it up in the air so high that it took over an hour for it to come back down again."

"Wouldn't it have hit the moon or something by then?" Ron asked.

"Not quite, but it certainly should have escaped earth's lower atmosphere and possibly disintegrated from the force," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Whatever the case, the tailor said he could beat that, and he took the bird out of his pocket and pretended to throw it. In reality, of course, it simply flew away, and the giant was once again surprised that the tailor's throw was so high that it never came back down again."

"I admit that was clever, but he couldn't possibly have known he was going to need to throw a bird up in the air because a random giant was going to come by and challenge him to a rock throwing contest," Ron said.

"No, but he was able to think quickly on his feet with what he had around him," Hermione said.

"Okay, I'll grant that, but I'm betting this story isn't done because these things tend to go in threes," Ron said.

"Indeed, very well observed," Hermione said, smiling proudly. "The giant knocked over a huge oak tree to carry back home for firewood, and he said he would take one end and the tailor the other. The tailor agree at once and said he would take the one end with all the branches since it was the more difficult one to carry."

"That seems like it would be fairly true," Harry said.

"Except, of course, he carried nothing at all. The giant carried the trunk in front, dragging the branches behind him, and the tailor, as small as he was, was able to lie down and hide in the leafy branches and let the giant give him a ride for his trouble without his being any the wiser," Hermione said.

"But what if the giant turned around to see if he was keeping up his part of the bargain?" Ron asked.

"He did, several times in fact, but all he could see was the branches of the tree, and the tailor assured him he was doing his part of the bargain," Hermione said.

"Clever," Ron said. "I think we're dealing with a potential Slytherin here."

"Possibly," Hermione said, tipping her head to the side. "Actually, the main characteristics of Slytherin, at least according to the Sorting Hat, are ambition and intelligence, which I have to admit doesn't really seem all that different from most Ravenclaws when you think about it."

"Ravenclaws?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. "They seem a bit too bookish for Slytherin."

"Not necessarily," Hermione said. "I'm more than passingly fond of books, and the Sorting Hat didn't wind up putting me there, though it did consider it briefly."

"Well, yeah, but look at Luna," Ron said. "She's a Ravenclaw, and she's not exactly a traditional academic, is she?"

"No," Hermione said carefully, "I don't think anyone would call her that. Honestly, I always thought she might have been happier in…"

"Gryffindor," Harry immediately supplied.

"I was going to say Hufflepuff, actually," Hermione said. "She has that sort of semi-hippie attitude that a lot of them do."

"But she's very loyal," Harry pointed out.

"True," Hermione said. "They don't come more loyal, even if she is a bit, well, odd."

"And brave," Ron added. "She handled the Death Eaters at the Ministry without much trouble at all."

"Fair point," Hermione said, but she looked uncomfortable. "I just wish I could, I don't know, understand her a bit more. She believes in such ridiculous things, and sometimes I could just shake some common sense into her."

"So? Common sense is, you know, common. Ordinary. Sort of boring," Ron said. "One thing Luna never is is boring. Bit daft on occasion, but not boring."

"Are you saying I'm boring?" Hermione said, a dangerous note in her voice.

"No!" Ron said immediately, backing up. "No, but you're not really common sense either, are you? You're uncommonly sensibly, much more than usual. 'Brightest witch of your age' and all that."

Mollified, Hermione shrugged. "Luna's a good friend and I miss her, regardless of what house she would have been happiest in."

"She's probably happiest with what she has," Harry said. "That's how she is."

"Yeah," Ron said, then added, "but I still think the tailor is a potential Slytherin."

"Not like Malfoy, though," Harry said. "More Theodore Nott."

"That'd fit," Ron said approvingly. "He doesn't say much, but you get the feeling he's thinking a lot. Maybe too much. Unnerving, that."

"Yes, well, whatever house he would belong to, the giant and the tailor continued down the road until they came to a cherry orchard. The giant bent down the top of one of the trees so the tailor could pick some cherries, but then without warning let go of it. The tailor, who was still holding the branch when it snapped back up and obviously could not hold down the whole tree with his small strength, was flung wildly through the air," Hermione said.

"I think the jig is up," Harry said.

"Unbelievably, the tailor was able to cover even for this, saying that he had spotted a hunter in the valley down below, and to avoid being accidentally shot, he had jumped over the tree of his own accord, then challenged the giant to do likewise," Hermione said.

"And did he?" Ron asked.

"No, the giant couldn't manage it and wound up caught in the tree branches," Hermione said.

"Bit like the old carol, but instead of a partridge in a pear tree, it's a giant in a cherry tree," Ron said, laughing.

"Oh, now I'm going to have that song stuck in my head all night," Hermione said, "only with the wrong lyrics, of course."

"Let's see," said, then began to sing off-key. "Twelve sisters dancing, eleven ants a-working, ten stepmothers plotting, nine princesses sleeping, eight geese a-bullying, seven dwarfs a-mining, six swan princes swimming, five idiotic fathers! Four Bremen musicians, three weird bears, two sore feet, and a giant in a cherry tree!"

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron for a solid minute with looks of equal disbelief and horror on their face.

"What? I could have sung you 'Pajamabell' to the tune of 'Jingle Bells' instead," Ron said. "Want to hear?"

"No, no, I think we're fine, thank you," Hermione said quickly.

"You're welcome," Ron said. "Now what?"

"Leaving the highly questionable totals for most of that to the side, we'll return to the story," Hermione said. "The giant was very impressed with the tailor's strength and invited him to spend the night in the cave that was home for himself and his brothers."

"That was nice of him," Ron said.

"Not really, as you'll see. When they arrived, each giant was eating a whole sheep, and the home inside the cave was truly enormous," Hermione said.

"How many brothers did he have?" Ron asked.

"The story usually doesn't say, but a fair few," Hermione said. "Anyway, the tailor was told to sleep in one of the enormous beds, but it was so huge that he was uncomfortable, and once the candles were blown out, he went over into a corner and slept there."

"How can a bed be too big?" Ron asked. "I can understand too little, of course, but just pick a spot sleep. It can't be that odd."

"Well, somehow it was, and a good thing too since the giant had really brought him back to the cave so he and his brothers could kill the tailor because he was frightened of how strong he was. They all took great iron bars and fell upon the bed, beating it viciously to pieces and thinking they had killed the tailor into the bargain, then went to sleep," Hermione said.

"That is not good hospitality," Ron said. "At least they didn't try to eat him, though, like the witch in the gingerbread house."

"No," Hermione said, "they at least stopped short of cannibalism, which really isn't much of a bright side. However, the next morning, they found the little tailor very much alive and only complaining that the bed had been a bit lumpy. Terrified, they ran out of the cave, never to be seen again."

"This bloke has remarkably good luck," Harry said suspiciously. "Seriously, what are the chances on that?"

"Exceptionally low," Hermione agreed, "but his luck wasn't over yet. He continued his way down the road, and some of the king's army saw him and the declaration on his belt. They had been hunting for a solution to a problem they were having, and they decided that a man who had killed seven with one blow should be able to tackle it."

"And what was that problem?" Harry asked.

"Another pair of giants," Hermione said.

"This story has a thing about giants," Ron said, frowning.

"Agreed," Hermione said. "There could be some latent pureblood prejudice occurring here if the wizarding world ever had a connection with it."

"Yeah, I'm almost starting to root for the giants in this one, except these do all seem homicidal," Ron said. "Still, what's the problem with these two?"

"They're homicidal," Hermione said.

"Oh. Great, okay," Ron said. "So does the tailor tell the soldier he actually only killed flies or…"

"No, he just follows them to the king, who wasn't very impressed by the look of him," Hermione said.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Well, the story is called 'The Brave Little Tailor," so I'm guessing he wasn't especially threatening looking, and on top of that, he was fairly poor," Hermione pointed out.

"Okay, now I'm picturing Collin Creevy in this role," Ron said. "It's making it a lot funnier, actually. So what does the king do?"

"The king informed him that a pair of giants were roaming the countryside and killing everyone they met, and if he could kill them, he would have his daughter's hand in marriage and half his kingdom," Hermione said.

"There's that patriarchy thing again," Ron said. "I suppose no one asked the daughter her opinion of marrying some random fellow who could kill a couple giants, did they."

"No, they didn't," Hermione said. "You've caught on well. The tailor thought it was quite a good deal, though, and agreed to the king's terms, though secretly the king assumed he wouldn't survive. He did offer him one hundred knights as extra support, but the tailor said he wouldn't need them."

"Not half sure of himself, is he?" Harry said with a laugh.

"More like he didn't want any witnesses," Hermione said. "He left the knights outside of a forest where the giants were known to live, then walked until he found the pair of them sitting under a tree after a long day of murdering the local farmers."

"Pleasant," Ron said. "Then what?"

"The tailor climbed up into the tree under which they were sitting, taking a handful of rocks with him," Hermione said.

"He's going to pelt them to death with rocks?" Ron asked. "That's most likely not going to work."

"No, it wouldn't, but he had a much more clever plan," Hermione said. "Just as one giant was starting to fall asleep, he dropped a rock on his head."

"That sounds like a really good way to get a giant very angry fast," Ron said.

"Precisely," Hermione said.

"Not smart," Ron said, shaking his head.

"Oh, but it was!" Hermione said. "The first giant thought the other giant had hit him, though of course he said he didn't, and just as the second giant was falling asleep, the tailor dropped a rock on his head in turn."

"And he thought the first giant, who was already angry with him, had conked him on the head?" Harry asked.

"Yes, though he too denied it," Hermione said. "Finally, the first giant began to fall asleep again, and the tailor dropped the third rock, and the situation became very violent very quickly. The two of them got into a horrible fight, knocking down trees, clubbing one another with them, beating each other to a pulp until they actually killed one another. Then the tailor climbed out of his tree, which fortunately hadn't been touched, stuck his sword in each one's heart, and called the knights to see that the giants were dead."

"Why does this sound weirdly familiar?" Harry asked.

"Possibly because it's also a Greek myth," Hermione explained. "The hero Cadmus pulls the same trick on a whole army of soldiers by hitting one with a rock, and each one thinks someone else had hit him, and they're all so angry at one another they almost all finished each other off."

"What did the soldiers do to get Cadmus wanting to kill them?" Ron asked.

"Nothing. I'm not entirely sure they were human, actually. He'd just killed a dragon, then pulled out its teeth and sowed them in a field, and they grew into soldiers," Hermione said. "The goddess Athena had told him it was a good idea, so he did it. The five best ones, the one who survived, followed him into battle and founded the city of Thebes, or so the story goes."

"Uh-huh," Ron said. "Right. Don't tell Hagrid that story or he'd sob himself to sleep for months. Anyway, the knights assume the tailor killed the giants, which is technically true if you squint hard enough, yeah?"

"Precisely, and they take him back to the king, who was stunned that he was still alive. While he was quite pleased to have the giants dead, he had no desire to marry off his daughter to the strange man," Hermione said.

"Maybe he shouldn't have promised that then," Ron said.

"Or maybe he shouldn't have treated his daughter like a thing to be bartered with," Hermione said.

"Or maybe the tailor could speak up and say if she's uncomfortable with the arrangement, so is he," Harry said.

"True enough, but the king set another task for the tailor, thinking he couldn't possibly manage it this time and he would be rid of him," Hermione said.

"And what did he have to do this time?" Ron asked.

"A wild unicorn was running about the country, goring people to death with its horn. The king ordered the tailor to bring him the unicorn's horn as a bridal gift, but not to kill the unicorn itself," Hermione said.

"There is so much wrong with that concept that I don't even know where to begin," Ron said.

"Go on, then," Hermione said.

"First off, the princess would have a better chance of getting close to the unicorn than a bloke would since full grown unicorns don't fancy being around males," Ron said. "Next, unicorns don't just go about randomly goring people unless, of course, some nitwit is bothering them. Finally, so far as I know unicorn horns don't just go dropping off for no reason, so how's he going to get the horn without killing it?"

"All completely correct, and Professor Grubbley-Plank would be highly pleased," Hermione said, smiling. "She really was a very good Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"But not as good as Hagrid," Ron said immediately, Harry nodding fiercely in agreement even though he wasn't entirely sure he agreed.

"No, no, of course not," Hermione said, but Harry noted she was unconsciously rubbing a spot on her arm where she'd been burned by a Screwt. "Anyway, the tailor accepted the challenge, appearing if anything rather bored by it."

"And of course he managed it, right?" Harry said, an idea starting to form in his head.

"Yes. He got the unicorn to chase him. Then he stood against a great tree, and as the unicorn was about to impale him on his horn, the tailor stepped clean to the side. The unicorn wound up running straight into the tree, getting his horn stuck. Then the tailor took out an ax, chopped the horn off, and the unicorn ran away, leaving his horn still partially buried in the tree trunk. All the tailor had to do was pry it out and give it to the king," Hermione said.

"Wouldn't that kill it?" Ron said, looking worried. "Sounds bloody painful."

"I honestly don't know," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I don't think a real unicorn would ever be stupid enough to fall for that trick anyway, so it's a moot point, but I'd need to do some research. I know several Medieval kings claimed to have goblets made of unicorn horn, though most of them are actually from narwhals."

"Okay, first off why would someone want a goblet of unicorn horn?" Ron asked.

"They were supposed to counteract any poison that was in the cup," Hermione said.

"Which of course didn't work," Ron said.

"Not even a little bit," Hermione said.

"Okay, then what's a narwhal?" Ron asked.

"A completely non-magical whale that happens to have a very large twisted horn on its forehead, at least the males do," Hermione explained. "They're usually about eight feet long."

"Fairly small whale," Ron said.

"No, not the whale. The horn," Hermione said.

"Blimey, I don't even want to know how big a unicorn with an eight foot horn would have to be," Ron said.

"I have absolutely no idea how people who sold the false horns explained it either," Hermione said. "In any case, this was a normal-sized horn as it was real."

"And how did the king react to that little present?" Harry asked.

"Not well," Hermione said. "He gave the tailor one more task in an effort to finish him off."

"Which was?" Ron asked.

"To capture a wild board that was-."

"Wait, let me guess. Terrorizing the countryside?" Ron suggested.

"Indeed," Hermione said.

"If I were the tailor, I'd get out of there," Ron said to Harry. "They've got far too many things wandering about the country and causing trouble. Go find a nice, normal country where giants and unicorns and boars and what have you have all gone starkers and want to kill anyone they see."

"You raise a fair point, but the tailor agreed, though he was rather annoyed to have to do the king yet another service. This time, he opened the door and the window of a small chapel. Then he got the boar to chase him. The tailor ran right into the chapel, the boar following close behind, and then leapt out the window, which was much too small for the boar. Then he ran around and slammed the door, trapping the boar inside, where he kill it at his leisure," Hermione said.

"Pretty close to what he did with the unicorn, really," Harry said.

"I'm not exactly the most religious of people, but is penning up a wild boar in a chapel and then slaughtering it in there really socially acceptable for Muggles?" Ron asked tentatively.

"No, not that you mention it," Hermione said. "That would definitely be frowned upon, especially since the boar undoubtedly would have done a great deal of damage in the process."

"Just checking," Ron said. "The tailor might have gone a bit far there."

"Possibly, but the king finally relented and presented the princess to the tailor as his bride, and they were wed that same day," Hermione said.

"Great Merlin, not in the same chapel!" Ron said, his eyes bugging out.

"I—I don't know," Hermione said, looking a bit ill. "One would hope not."

"I'm 100% certain a pool of boar's blood wasn't in any of Fleur's bridal decorating magazines," Ron said.

"I don't know," Harry said. "Maybe that was the look that season: rustic chaos. Put together a charming little chapel, a bunch of overturned and smashed pews, drench everything in the leavings of a boar killing, throw some pink and white tulips around, maybe a few bows, and there you have it."

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

"Harry, please don't ever become a wedding planner," Hermione said.

"I'm only joking!" he said.

"We know," Ron said, "but still. Eugh."

"It does raise an interesting question as to whether the story is meant to subvert traditional religious marriage as well as the hold of the church on the lives of the peasantry and royals alike," Hermione said, gazing into the middle distance. "Of course, in the case of the boar killing, there could be a concept as church as protector, but the more obvious connection would be the profaning of sacred space, and if it really is the scene of the wedding, then it would make even more sense because of what happens next."

"Which is?" Ron asked.

"Oh, the princess wasn't particularly happy with her husband," Hermione said.

"As no one asked her, I can't fault her for that," Ron said.

"No, but her issues with him became even more serious when he began talking in his sleep," Hermione said. "At one point he started blabbering about sewing a shirt and cleaning up his shop, and the princess knew that he wasn't any sort of noble at all but really only a poor tailor."

"Oh, well if she's going to be all posh and snooty about it, then that's different," Ron said. "Now I feel free not to like her with a clear conscience. Go on, then."

"She went to her father and revealed the horrible truth, and her father agreed that this had gone on quite long enough. He arranged for the same hundred knights to be outside of his son-in-law and daughter's bedroom that very night, waiting for the signal to come in and carry the tailor off, putting him on a boat to who knows where and never to be seen again, or in some versions, just to kill him outright," Hermione said.

"I'm now seeing why getting married in a blood-soaked chapel may not have been a good omen," Harry said.

"Yes, but the tailor's squire, who had taken a liking to him for all his bravery, warned him ahead of time, and the tailor hatched a plan," Hermione said. "He stayed up all night, and when he heard the knights at the door, he pretended to be talking in his sleep once more, saying, 'What ho, serving boy! Make that jacket and patch those trousers or it's the stick for you! For I've killed seven with one blow, escaped from a den full of giants, finished off another two, stolen a unicorn's horn, caught the fiercest wild boar, and I am not afraid of the hundred knights who stand outside this very door!'" Hermione said, giving the tailor a voice that started out squeaky and ended in veritable roar.

"That must not have gone over well," Ron said.

"Precisely. The knights ran in fear from the castle along with the king and his daughter, off to the boat, and sailed away, never to be seen again," Hermione said.

"And the tailor?" Harry asked.

"He promoted the squire to his chief advisor, became king, and lived very happily ever after," Hermione said.

"Well, at least it ended well for the tailor," Ron said. "I still stand by him being a Slytherin with that many tricks up his sleeve, but he earned that spot as king and then some."

"Most likely," Hermione said.

"Or there's the other option," Harry said.

"Which is?" Ron asked.

"Well, think about it. Most of this involves weird lucky coincidences: killing the flies, randomly picking up and carrying a bird and bit of cheese, not liking the giant bed, bumping into the knights, the king making a rash promise, his tree not getting torn down in the giants' fight, the unicorn being clumsy, and the boar being really stupid. Add to that, this all started at lunch on one day, and all the rest of the things that happen really could be crammed into twenty-four hours," Harry said.

Hermione appeared to do some math in her head, but eventually nodded, saying, "Yes, it's possible, though he'd have a busy morning of it."

"So," Harry said, smiling, "Felix Felicis."

"What?" Ron said.

"At lunch, he might have taken a bottle of good old Felix, and the next thing you know he's unbelievably lucky for a solid day," Harry said. "I only took a few hours' worth on that night Aragog was buried, and the rest of you lot got only a tiny sip at the battle after Dumbledore died, but can you imagine what it'd be like to be that lucky for a whole day? It's the only explanation that makes sense, isn't it?"

"You know," Ron said slowly, turning the matter over in his mind, "it does make sense. Hermione?"

"Well, there's no proof of it in the story itself specifically," Hermione said, "though the peddler who sells him the jam always did strike me as rather odd and a bit magical. I suppose it could have been enchanted or had Felix Felicis in it since after he eats it really is when all the strange things start to happen."

"Felix," Harry said, nodding firmly. "Has to be."

"Wish we still had some of that hanging about," Ron said, looking a bit glum.

"I wish I could have brought some, but it's incredibly tricky to make and disastrous if it goes wrong," Hermione said apologetically. "I actually was hoping to try to brew some after Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I didn't predict the Ministry falling so soon."

"Ah, that's all right," Ron said, waving his hand. "You packed enough stuff in that little bag anyway."

"All Ron and I brought was our wands, the dress robes we had on, and ourselves," Harry said. "We'd have been in right state if you hadn't planned this out."

"That's true," Ron said, looking as though he hadn't actually realized that before. "We really would have been."

Hermione blushed but looked pleased.

"So, where are we off to tomorrow?" Ron said.

"Oh, well, you picked Italy, I picked the Vatican Library, and Harry tried Albania," Hermione said. "It looks like it's your turn again, Ron."

"That's right," he said, looking serious. "I suppose maybe we'd better get back somewhere nearer home, oughtn't we."

"Maybe," Harry said, silently thinking it was a good sign that Ron was the one suggesting it.

"Okay then," Ron said. "I say we try the town where Merope and Tom Riddle had their honeymoon. Where was it?"

"A little spot outside Sussex," Hermione said, and Harry noted she looked surprised. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I think we owe it to Bertha Jorkins."

Harry and Hermione were silent for a moment.

"Okay, then," Hermione said. "We'll leave a bit after sunrise."

"Home sweet home," Ron said with a grimace.

"Maybe it will be again soon," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Maybe."

The wind blew loudly outside their tent that night, and Harry shivered beneath his blankets that night. It was cold, and he kept thinking of the sound he had heard in his first year, the dry, slithering, scratchy noise of Voldemort's shattered form skittering over the dead leaves of the Forbidden Forest. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep, willing himself not to hear that sound on the other side of the canvas, hoping going home was the right decision.