Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, I only own a few characters and bits of the plot. There are also direct quotations taken out of the book which I might have shortened but essentially they mean the same thing.
Sorry for the slow update, school is really hogging all my time.
Chapter 12 – Shell Cottage
They stood around Harry and Dobby for a while, their silence seemingly making the waves thrash louder.
"Dobby…Dobby," Harry repeated.
After a while Harry seemed to realize the presence around him.
"Hermione," he said suddenly, "Where is she?"
"Ron's taken her inside," replied Bill, "She'll be alright."
Harry looked at Dobby's lifeless body, he stretched his hand out and pulled the knife out of the elf, then pulled off his own jacket and draped it over Dobby. Dean hesitated, then he stood forward, picked up the body of the limp goblin, Griphook, and proceeded to carry him to the cottage, Fleur followed them.
"You ar' Dean Thomas, zee muggle-born, no?"
"Yes, yes I'm Dean Thomas," he said as they entered the cottage and Fleur directed them upstairs to a room with two beds, one of them which was being used by Ollivander. Dean placed the goblin carefully in the bed next to the window and Fleur disappeared downstairs to get some Skele-Gro.
"Thank you," came the wheezy voice of the goblin, it was more of a thank you of duty rather than of gratitude, nonetheless, in all the time Dean had spent with Griphook, this was the first relatively praiseworthy comment he had heard from the goblin, and he wondered how much he had done to earn it.
"Your welcome," whispered Dean, as he tiptoed towards the door.
Dean exited the room and met Ron who had left Hermione in the room next to Griphook's. They looked glumly at each other and the two walked wordlessly downstairs. Fleur had the jar of Skele-Gro in her hands and was possibly looking for more medicine while Luna was carrying a jug and two cups of water to take upstairs for Griphook and Ollivander.
"Harry's in the garden, he's burying Dobby," said Luna to Ron and Dean.
"If you vant to 'elp, zer ar' two spades leaning against zee house, if you go through zee back door, you vill see dem," said Fleur, behind Luna.
The two exited through the back door and picked up their spades, they walked towards Harry, who was digging relentlessly at a patch of ground between two bushes, welcoming the physical labour.
"How's Hermione?" he asked.
"Better," said Ron, "Fleur's looking after her."
Automatically, Ron and Dean stepped into the hole and began digging too, working in silence until the hole was big enough.
Harry wrapped his jacket around Dobby more snuggly, after a moment, Ron sat on the edge of the grave, took off his socks and shoes and slipped them on Dobby. Out of his bag, Dean pulled the woolen hat his mother had knitted and Harry placed it on Dobby's head.
The others had assembled around them now, Bill in his traveling cloak, Fleur with her apron and the Skele-Gro in the pocket, Hermione wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown and Luna who was draped in one of Fleur's coats.
"We should close his eyes."
Luna bent down, placing her fingers lightly on the elf's eyelids, and sliding it down his eyes so that his shiny eyes would be concealed forever.
"There. Now he could be sleeping," she said softly.
Harry placed the elf inside the grave, and stepped inside too, gazing at Dobby for the last time.
Then Luna piped in, "I think we ought to say something. I'll go first, shall I?"
She stopped beside the grave and addressed to the sleeping elf, "Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It's so unfair that you had to die, when you were so good and brave. I'll always remember what you did for us. I hope you're happy now."
Ron cleared his thick throat, "Yeah…thanks Dobby."
"Thanks," Dean whispered as Luna's words still echoed in his ears.
"Goodbye Dobby," said Harry. Bill raised his wand and the pile of earth rose up into the air and fell gently over the elf, till there was a small mound where the grave was.
"D'you mind if I stay here for a moment?" asked Harry.
Fleur and Bill murmured replies, Luna smiled sadly and Ron and Hermione exchanged worrying looks. The group walked back to the cottage, leaving Harry with the free elf.
Dean walked numbly with the others. When he realised Voldemort was taking over the wizarding world he didn't imagine himself grieving for dead people and creatures every other day. He didn't know that people would die who had saved him once or defended him before. He'd never imagine himself digging a grave, and yet all these things seemed to have happened within the last two days. It felt out of place that he was still alive, here where all these noble people like Ted Tonks and loyal creatures like Dobby were dead, and Dean, who had never saved anyone in his life was still allowed to breathe and eat and sleep, while others like Dobby would never be able to see the world again.
They sat in the living room, crowded around the fire, Bill had been explaining how Griphook and Ollivander were going to be moved to his great-aunt Muriel's house, when Harry came in and asked how they were protected.
"Fidelius Charm. Dad's Secret Keeper. And we've done it on this cottage too; I'm Secret Keeper here. None of us can go to work, but that's hardly the most important thing now. Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we'll move them to Muriel's too…"
"No I need both of them here…"
Bits of conversation drifted in and out of Dean's ear, as he stared calmly into the fire, the dancing flames almost hypnotizing him, the heat, becoming so warm it was almost burning his face.
You made me leave my school then you made me leave my family and you made me leave my friends, then you killed those who tried to help me. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? Life. Wasn't. Meant. To. Turn. Out. Like. This.
Somewhere in his memory he could hear Aberforth saying, "Leave the country Dean, find somewhere safe and peaceful where there ain't any wizards and live a content muggle life, what's wrong with that?"
I DON'T WANT TO LIVE A CONTENT MUGGLE LIFE.
"Dean? Dean?" Luna shook his body slightly.
Dean ripped his eyes from the flames and turned away from the fire, he touched his face with his hands and felt the heat radiating off his cheeks.
"What?" he said rather menacingly, looking around to find that they were the only two in the room, "Where's everyone else?" he added, in a softer tone.
"Harry, Ron and Hermione have gone upstairs to talk to Griphook and Mr Ollivander. I think Fleur and Bill are upstairs too. Fleur left some water to boil to make tea, would you like to watch the kettle with me?"
"Oh – yeah," said Dean absentmindedly, as the two got up from the carpet and entered the kitchen. They took up two chairs from the small kitchen table, Dean's eyes wandered around, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that Luna was watching him. Once he glanced in her direction and to his dismay discovered that he was right. Luna's mouth curled up in a small, reassuring smile. Her blonde hair was loose and rather messy. There was no wand to stick behind her ear and there weren't any horse radish earrings or butterbeer cork necklaces, just a pale face looking back at him. He was surprised to find that Luna looked normal for once.
"So what – How long have you been locked in the Malfoy Manor?" asked Dean, trying to start some conversation and stopping the huge eyes from looking at him.
"Oh, since Christmas," said Luna crisply.
-
The days turned into weeks. Harry, Ron and Hermione were always upstairs in the room with Griphook, there was clearly something they were planning between the four of them. But if there was, the rest of the occupants didn't ask any questions. At least Dean was not perturbed by their constant absence, he was rather stuck in his own thoughts, and Luna, always serene and calm looked as if she didn't notice the difference.
With the three and Griphook locked up in the room all day, Dean found himself constantly with Luna. They would do the gardening together, collect the driftwood together, and only at dinner time did Harry, Hermione and Ron appear to set the table. Other than that, the only time Dean saw them was at bedtime, when the three boys shared the living room.
If Dean had any spare time to himself, which was usually in the evenings, he would go and sit on the rocks to stare down at the beach and do some sketching with a quilt which had a degree of difficulty. Sometimes, he would climb down the short cliff and take a stroll down the beach.
During their first week at Shell Cottage, Dean had sketched pictures of Dirk and Ted and even Gornuk, the grumpy goblin. He was now sitting on a flat rock, drawing a picture of Dobby, sketching his big glassy eyes.
"Ooooh," said Luna who had silently walked up to Dean, "It's beautiful."
"Thanks," said Dean, his hand momentarily stopping.
"Can you teach me how to draw?"
"You wanna learn how to draw?" asked Dean, a tad surprised.
"Yes," replied Luna, smiling at him.
After that, Dean began giving Luna drawing lessons during any spare time he had. Luna wasn't bad to start off with either.
"I've drawn a bit at home, by myself," said Luna, in response to Dean's query.
Sometimes Luna would tell Dean about the many wild creatures she knew about. Dean had kindly declined, but that didn't stop Luna describing the winter diet of Nargles.
-
On a windy April day, Dean and Luna had gone to collect some driftwood in the small forest behind the cottage and on the outskirts of Tinsworth. Luna had delayed their task quite a bit when she began looking for signs of Crumple-horned Snorkacks.
"Come on Luna!" cried Dean, carrying a stack of driftwood under his arm, "We need to go before it rains," he said, looking warily at the dark sky.
It rained straight after the words came out of Dean's mouth.
"Oh great," he muttered, as the water soaked his clothes and stuck to his skin.
"Luna!" yelled Dean, over the pattering of the rain. He ran over to where she was still inspecting the tree roots of small, young tree and grabbed her fingers.
"Oh!" she cried as Dean yanked her away and they ran towards the cottage, their arms both full of driftwood.
"I'm sorry Dean, I was looking for a Crumple-horned Snorkack, you see. They have really big eyes and tiny little ears…"
They had just entered the cottage, and Dean, whose arm brushed against the pocket of his jeans, felt the absence of the outline of the key which he had kept in that pocket for safe-keeping.
No, no. Where's the key?!?!?!?!?
They passed Harry and emptied their driftwood into the fireplace, with Luna still talking.
"…and if you ever come to our house I'll be able to show you the horn…"
After placing the driftwood in the fireplace, Dean raced to the bathroom to wash his hands and then began searching widely in his pockets for it.
Where is it? Where is it?
Then Luna came in, "It's dinner now, Dean."
"Yeah – yeah, I know," said Dean, slightly cross.
They walked to the combined dining and living room, as Bill was just about to transport Mr Ollivander to his great-aunt's.
"I'm going to miss you, Mr Ollivander," said Luna, as she approached the man.
"And I you, my dear," said Ollivander.
They all said their goodbyes and the pair disappeared into the night to disapparate, Fleur closing the door behind them.
The rest of them sat down to dinner. Bill soon returned and they were packing away the dishes when Dean was astonished to see his old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin drop by to announce the birth of his son whose mother was Tonks, the woman who, now Dean remembered, Ted had mentioned as his daughter, a clumsy metamorphagi.
Despite the happy news, Dean cleaned up after dinner in a rather glum mood.
"I'm sorry," said Luna, who was washing the dishes with him.
"What? – Oh, about the rain? No, it doesn't matter."
"I'm talking about the key," she continued, as if she didn't hear Dean, "The key you keep fingering, you've lost it haven't you? When we ran out of the woods?"
"Oh – I – yeah," Dean finished, "It's nothing special."
"You looked very worried when you were looking for it in the bathroom," said Luna serenely.
"Well – look, don't worry about it," said Dean, with a tone of finality.
-
Dean's eyes opened as the first lights of dawn streamed through the window. He had had another nightmare, had envisioned his parents dying, and although he had already woken up, he was still in aftershock, a part of him believed that his parents were truly dead. The other two were still sleeping beside him, Ron snoring softly, and Harry twisting and turning, as if he too was trapped in a nightmare.
Dean quietly got up, pulled his sweater over the pajamas Bill had lent him, and decided to take a morning stroll.
Outside it was sunny but there was a chilly wind. Dean placed his hands in the pocket of his sweater, and began walking subconsciously towards the forest. For the past few days he had been waiting for mail from Hoot, but the owl never came and it became another thing to worry about.
What if something happened to my family, or if Hoot never found them?
So lost was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice the blonde girl running towards him.
"Good morning Dean!" said Luna happily, as she slid something gold and shiny into Dean's hand.
"Wha – How?" was all Dean could say as he stared at the key in his hand.
"I woke up early this morning to look for it," replied Luna.
Dean was suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of gratitude, "Thanks, you…you really shouldn't have."
"Oh no, I think so. You looked very sad when you didn't have it."
"Well, thank you anyway," said Dean, smiling at Luna.
-
With the key back now, Dean seemed more determined than ever to find out who had left him the key and who had protected Dean all this time. He remembered his last conversation with Dirk and Ted and dug around his bag for the photo and the newspaper article. As he sat there on the flat rock overlooking the sea, he wrote three names down on the piece of parchment before him.
Fiona Carrophs
Dean Smith
Theodore Smith
Could it be that his owl had randomly picked up this rubbish? Or was everything more intricately linked than Dean thought it was? And was it a coincidence that Dean had ran into Dirk Cresswell, the man who was able to tell Dean everything about Theodore Smith? In a way it almost felt like a set up.
His heart suddenly quickened his pace, Dean's mind had spat out a random memory as he sat there pondering the three names.
"Anagrams can be completely irrelative to the original word in meaning, but are essentially born from the same letters, and can sometimes make very strong disguises which when uncovered seem blatantly obvious."
His hand raced across the page as he wrote down his father's name, while crossing out letters from the three names of the Smith family.
He ended up crossing all of the letters in Carrophs, Smith and Theo and the conclusions almost leapt up at him after being dormant for so long.
His father's real name had been Theodore Smith.
Christopher Thomas was an anagram of his mother's maiden name, his original surname, and his own nickname.
Dean Thomas was not a muggle-born.
-
Well there you go, yes I suppose it was kinda sus, but there's more where that came from…hehe…