For once, they were in comfortable surroundings, and Harry was enjoying being warm, indoors, and decently fed just this once. A glance over at Ron and Hermione showed they were similarly thankful that Horace Slughorn was known far and wide for enjoying luxurious surroundings. While Slughorn was still up at Hogwarts and hadn't been home for months by the look of things, he still had plenty of food stashed about along with overstuffed chairs, blankets, soft carpets, and a thousand other little pleasantries that Harry had almost begun to forget existed.

Unfortunately, while their search for a Horcrux had turned up nothing at all, Harry had found more than a few other interesting things. This had been Slughorn's home before Voldemort returned, and when he had decided to turn to moving from Muggle house to Muggle house to keep out of the reach of Death Eaters, he had brought only some of his possessions with him. It appeared that, now that Voldemort obviously knew exactly where to find him so there was no virtue in hiding, Slughorn had returned here over the summer. Some of the same belongings Harry recalled from the Muggle house on the night when Dumbledore had asked Slughorn to return to Hogwarts, as well as those from his office at the school, were scattered about the room. Among these was his collection of photographs, and Harry took the time really to examine them. His mother and father were there, of course, along with Regulus and several other wizards and witches Harry could recognize, but he was startled to see one picture of what was unmistakably Tom Riddle. It was behind the rest of them, almost lurking out of sight as though Slughorn had been ashamed of it, but it was still there. Harry pulled it from its place at the back and stared at it for a long while as Riddle stared up at him, not moving all that much, smiling in a way that didn't reach his eyes. He wondered whether this had been taken before or after he had become a murderer, whether there had ever been any scrap of goodness in him at all.

At length, he put the photograph back where it belonged and rejoined Hermione and Ron in the dining room around the large, beautifully carved table that was currently littered with candy box ribbons, biscuit crumbs, and dirty plates. Ron sighed with satisfaction, patting his own stomach lovingly.

"Blimey, what a treat," he said, closing his eyes in bliss. "We owe old Sluggy."

"Yes, precisely fifteen galleons and seven sickles, give or take a knut," Hermione said, looking guilty.

"We can pay him back after this is all done," Harry said.

"I'll even throw in an extra galleon just for the lodgings," Ron said, leaning so far back in the plush dining room chair that he was in danger of toppling it over into the packed curio case behind him. "Any luck, Harry?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I don't think there's anything here."

"It doesn't feel like it, does it," Hermione agreed. "Maybe it's how comfortable he's made everything, but I have difficulty believing You-Know-Who's soul is lying about somewhere in this place. There's no sense of dark magic at all."

"No, just a sore tum on the rise," Ron said with a half-hearted look of regret.

Hermione rummaged through her beaded bag for a moment, then handed him a small bottle of stomach settling potion, which he took gratefully.

"Why do you reckon we got in here so easy?" Ron asked.

"Well, there were still wards and charms guarding the place," Hermione said, "but I think Slughorn may actually added have something into them that assessed the intent of those trying to enter. Very clever of him, really."

"You think he made it a refuge on purpose, just in case?" Harry asked.

"Possibly," Hermione said, "or possibly he did it because he wanted to be able to pop back and forth here with as little trouble as possible to collect his newly delivered bonbons and second-best carpet slippers. It's hard to tell with him, but I'd be very surprised if we weren't safe here, at least for a single night."

"Good, because I felt a little like that Hansel fellow for a minute, and I don't fancy winding up in a cage and fattened for Sluggy's dinner, even if I do get fed well on the way," Ron said, stretching. "Any chance we can stay here a few days?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "As it is, we don't want to draw the Muggle neighbors' attention, and we're safer on the move."

"Still, eating this way every night, can you imagine it?" Ron said, smiling dreamily. "I wonder if they still have the usual enormous dinners in the Great Hall. The chicken legs, those were the stuff of legend, and the pudding! Every night, some new thing or other."

"Making you appreciate the house-elves?" Hermione asked with a pointed look.

"I never didn't appreciate them," Ron said defensively. "I just appreciate them more now."

"Yeah, well, as good as the food was—" Harry started.

"And the beds. Soft, warm beds with curtains to pull to keep out the light and Neville's snores," Ron said, closing his eyes happily.

"And the beds, and everything else, I don't know that I'd trade it if it meant being around a bunch of Tommy's lackeys all day every day," Harry said.

"And the constant threat of torture or worse," Hermione added, looking deeply unhappy. "Besides which, we'd probably all be killed if we walked in the front door. It's horrid to think of how it's all changed."

"I suppose you have a point," Ron said, chewing a gingersnap forlornly. "I hope Ginny's okay."

Harry silently agreed with him, but he didn't trust himself to say Ginny's name. He wondered how all of the others were getting on: Luna, Neville, Seamus, even the Creevey brothers. He hoped they were alright. The map could show them the others, if they were still at Hogwarts, of course, but it didn't let them know if their friends and schoolmates were safe or not.

"Want one of these?" Ron asked Harry, obviously trying to break his somber mood. "They're awfully nice."

Harry nodded and took a gingersnap, letting the spicy taste wash over him, stinging his nose pleasantly. He still felt worried, confused, lost, and unhappy, but at least he had a full belly, which was a definite improvement over feeling all those same things while starving.

Ron was looking around the dining room wistfully, gazing at the biscuit jar visible through the open door to the kitchen and absent-mindedly playing with the gnawed crust of the enormous sandwich he'd eaten. Hermione's expression was guarded, but Harry knew she was concerned that Ron was getting too comfortable.

"Just another couple days," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "That'd be—"

"-practically suicide," Hermione said firmly.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You can't know that Tommy's minions are going to show up," Ron said peevishly. "Why should they come here more than anywhere else?"

"We're in a private residence, Ron," Hermione said. "An alley or park or abandoned building all have their own risks, but here someone could walk in at any moment, and I'm sorry, but even if that's Slughorn himself, I'm not sure how safe he is. He might wander in tonight looking for crystalized pineapple in the cupboard, find us instead, and decide that rather than having You-Know-Who use Legilimency on him and kill him for not turning us in, he'd rather get the reward."

"I hope he's not that bad," Ron said half-heartedly, though he had voiced the thought himself before they came.

"He very well might not be, but I don't trust much of anyone anymore," Hermione said, picking at a few fragments from her crisps. "One night here, then out. That's all I think we can risk, and even that's a hazardous."

"Can we at least take some food with us?" Ron asked.

"Some," Hermione said, "but if we can manage to make it look less like a burglary and more like Slughorn just miscounted, that would work better, even if he doesn't put together who did it."

"Sometimes I think I'd rather just take Polyjuice every day like Crouch did to turn myself into a random student and go back to Hogwarts in spite of the danger," Ron said.

"I don't see that ending well," Harry said.

"No, but I'd be well fed by the time they caught on," Ron pointed out.

"A feast isn't worth constant fear," Hermione said, then stopped.

"Wait, story?" Ron asked, looking hopeful.

"Only a short one, but yes," Hermione said. "It's one of Aesop's again."

"The one who likes talking animals most of the time?" Ron said.

"Yes, it's another of those," Hermione said.

Ron looked at her expectantly but said nothing.

"What?" she said.

"So? Go on, then," he said.

"If you would like me to tell you a story, you might try actually asking politely," she said, glaring.

"Fine, fine," he said before putting on a falsely gallant tone. "Oh Hermione, fair lady of fairy stories and talented teller of tall tales, wilt thou condescend to enchant we poor feeble-minded fools with another of your fabulous fables?"

"Please," Harry added.

"Yeah, please," Ron finished in his normal tone of voice.

"You could have left off the first bit and just kept the second for the same result," Hermione said, laughing a little. "Quite the alliteration you had going there. In any case, once—"

"Upon a time," Ron said immediately, keeping time to the words with his fork.

"Yes," Hermione said with a sigh, "there lived two mice who were cousins. One lived in town, and the other lived in the countryside. The town mouse came to visit his relative one day, and the country mouse provided a good, hearty meal for him of acorns, rainwater, berries, and wheat seeds."

"Sounds pretty good for a mouse dinner," Ron said.

"The country mouse thought so as well, but the town mouse, though he ate well, laughed at his cousin, saying that this was nothing but the food of poverty and that he himself dined like a king each night," Hermione said.

"Snob," Ron said, grimacing.

"Yes, he is rather," Hermione said, "but he did invite his cousin to visit him in town so that he could see what he was missing by living in the country."

"At least he's willing to share," Harry said.

"More like he wants to rub it in," Ron said. "I don't like the town mouse."

"Sure enough, a few days later, the country mouse came to the residence of his cousin in town, and he was overawed by how enormous it was, for he lived in a hole in the wall of a rich family's home," Hermione said.

"See, said he was a snob," Ron said.

"A few hours later, after the family had dined but before the servants cleared the table, the country mouse was led by his cousin to the remains of the great dinner that had been served. There, on fine china plates, were bits of pheasant and beef, still hot soup in lovely bowls, crumbs of fine bread, delicate sweetmeats, and every sort of wonderful food the country mouse could imagine as well as many he could not, all accompanied by the dregs of fine wine in crystal goblets," Hermione said.

"Okay, town mouse is still a snob, but he's a snob with a pretty good diet," Ron said. "I'm willing to overlook that this is leftovers and tuck in myself."

"So were the mice, who scurried up the fine linen tablecloth and were just about to begin eating when the family cat leaped onto the table and chased them around the room with murderous intent in his eyes," Hermione said.

"Oi! Not fair!" Ron said. "He should have told him about that!"

"But he didn't, and the mice were chased hither and thither around the room until finally they managed to scramble back into the little hole in the wall that led to the country mouse's home," Hermione said.

"This is obviously not one of the Grimm stories since they're still alive, which is more than I was expecting," Harry said.

"And nobody lost a foot, so no Andersen either," Ron said. "Aesop is a lot nicer than those two."

"Three, actually, as there were two brothers Grimm," Hermione said, "and in some tales, yes. In others, Aesop is still pretty lethal."

"Anyway, so what happens when the obviously Slytherin town mouse and his poor cousin get back to safety?" Ron asked.

"Oh, the country mouse was very frightened by the cat, but the town mouse said it was just the price of having the chance to live life luxuriously and in style. The country mouse shook his head and said he was much happier and more fortunate living his simple life in the countryside without fear of cats," Hermione said, "and when the next day came, he went home, perfectly happy. The end."

Ron paused for a long moment, then said, "What about hawks?"

"Hawks?" Hermione asked. "There weren't any hawks in this story."

"No, but there would be some in the countryside," Ron said, "or foxes or owls or any number of other things that eat mice."

"Well, yes, most likely, but-" Hermione said.

"So the country mouse doesn't get bothered by a cat when he's at home, not that there aren't usually some feral ones out in the countryside, but he's still liable to wind up dinner for a load of other mouse-eating animals that wander about freely out there that the town mouse doesn't have to deal with since one rarely sees a hawk crashing through some bloke's window to grab a mouse or a stray fox running around the drawing room," Ron said. "He's really no safer in the countryside than his cousin is in the town, is he?"

"I suppose when you put it that way—" Hermione began.

"And the town mouse gets the added bonus of being safe from the elements, nice and warm at night. As long as he's no fool, the cat can't follow him into his hole in the wall, so if he keeps watch, he should get great food, live a pretty safe life, and really is doing better than the country mouse," Ron said. "I think Aesop may have missed it on this one."

"I… well, possibly," Hermione said, turning pink.

"There's more than one kind of danger," Ron said.

"Yes, well, I suppose so," Hermione said.

"I'd still rather avoid cats if I can help it," Harry said, "especially ones in Death Eater robes."

"Fair enough," Ron said with a shrug. "Where are we off to tomorrow, then? Hermione, it's your turn to pick, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, frowning. "I'm not really sure, though. I've been thinking, maybe we should try somewhere different. We could try someplace associated with one of the founders, maybe?"

"Which one?" Ron asked.

"Well, You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, so maybe we should check where Salazar Slytherin was born," Hermione said.

"We already went to where he got married and there wasn't anything there," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, but I thought he was born somewhere nearby at that point," Hermione said. "It turns out I was wrong. He lived in Lincolnshire for a while, but he was born around Derry."

"Northern Ireland?" Harry said. "Anyone else suddenly understanding why he was crazy about green?"

"It's a thought, anyway," Hermione said.

"Fine by me," Ron said. "I'm turning in. Night all."

Ron went up the stairs to sleep in one of the two guestrooms in the house, while Hermione took the other one and Harry, who had drawn the short straw earlier, retired to what seemed to be Slughorn's bedroom. It felt odd not hearing the breathing of the others, a sound he had grown used to in the last few months, and the ticking of a particularly ornate carriage clock on the mantelpiece kept Harry awake for a while before he finally fell asleep. Unfortunately, as he slept, he had a nightmare about a gigantic cat's eye pressed against the window, its iris vivid red.