Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter took a little bit longer to upload.

Disclaimer: Anyone seen the new Captain America movie? I haven't, but I'd really like to.

…

Levina awoke groggily the next morning, having been up for hours on end the previous night. She gathered with the others in the center of the tent to discuss plans, and Harry let her know that he'd buried Mad-Eye Moody's eyeball in the ground of a nearby tree. Levina nodded drowsily, agreeing that it was better than having it hang on Umbridge's door like a trophy.

Harry and Hermione felt that it was best not to stay anywhere too long, and Ron agreed, with the sole proviso that their next move took them within reach of a bacon sandwich. Levina shrugged, not really having much of an opinion, other than agreeing that meat sounded like a good idea. Hermione therefore removed the enchantments she had placed around the clearing, while Harry, Levina, and Ron obliterated all the marks and impressions on the ground that might show they had camped there. Then they Disapparated to the outskirts of a small market town.

Once they had pitched the tent in the shelter of a small copse of trees and surrounded it with freshly cast defensive enchantments, Harry ventured out under the Invisibility Cloak to find sustenance for them. This, however, did not go as planned. He returned immediately, empty-handed and out of breath, mouthing, "dementors."

"In the town?" Levina demanded. "That's…not good."

"But you can make a brilliant Patronus!" protested Ron.

"I couldn't...make one," Harry panted, clutching the stitch in his side. "Wouldn't... come."

Levina was taken aback. "What? I don't understand—you're the one that taught all of us how to do them!"

"So we still haven't got any food," Ron interjected.

"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "Harry, what happened? Why do you think you couldn't make your Patronus? You managed perfectly yesterday!"

"I don't know."

He sat low in one of Perkins's old armchairs, looking humiliated. Levina came to sit beside him, rubbing his shoulder reassuringly. This situation was taking a toll on all of them, and even if she tried, Levina had a feeling she'd probably fail against the dementors, too. Harry cringed at the touch of her hand and elbowed her away. Hurt, Levina stared at him. Normally, that would have calmed him down some.

Ron kicked a chair leg.

"What?" he snarled at Hermione. "I'm starving! All I've had since I bled half to death is a couple of toadstools!"

"You go and fight your way through the dementors, then," said Harry, clearly stung.

"I would, but my arm's in a sling, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"That's convenient."

"And what's that supposed to—?"

"Would you two cut it out already?" Levina snapped. "What's gotten into you, Harry?"

"I dunno, maybe the fact that none of you even appreciate all the effort that I've—"

"Of course!" cried Hermione suddenly, clapping a hand to her forehead and startling all of them into silence. "Harry, give me the locket! Come on," she said impatiently, clicking her fingers at him when he did not react, "the Horcrux, Harry, you're still wearing it!"

She held out her hands, and Harry lifted the golden chain over his head. The moment it parted contact with Harry's skin, he looked suddenly relaxed, his shoulders no longer tense.

"Better?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, loads better!"

"Harry," she said, crouching down in front of him and using the kind of voice he associated with visiting the very sick, "you don't think you've been possessed, do you?"

"What? No!" he said defensively, "I remember everything we've done while I've been wearing it. I wouldn't know what I'd done if I'd been possessed, would I? Ginny told me there were times when she couldn't remember anything."

"Hmm," said Hermione, looking down at the heavy locket.

"Maybe it just messes with our emotions," Levina suggested. "Stirs us up. I mean, it's a piece of Vol—"

"You-Know-Who!" Ron insisted.

"Well, maybe we ought not to wear it," said Hermione. "We can just keep it in the tent."

"We are not leaving that Horcrux lying around," Harry stated firmly. "If we lose it, if it gets stolen—"

"Oh, all right, all right," said Hermione, and she placed it around her own neck and tucked it out of sight down the front of her shirt. "But we'll take turns wearing it, so nobody keeps it on too long."

"Great," said Ron irritably, "and now we've sorted that out, can we please get some food?"

"Fine, but we'll go somewhere else to find it," said Hermione with half a glance at Harry and Levina. "There's no point staying where we know dementors are swooping around."

In the end they settled down for the night in a far flung field belonging to a lonely farm, from which they had managed to obtain eggs and bread.

"It's not stealing, is it?" asked Hermione in a troubled voice, as they devoured scrambled eggs on toast. "Not if I left some money under the chicken coo?"

Ron rolled his eyes and said, with his cheeks bulging, "Er-my-nee, 'oo worry 'oo much. 'Elax!"

Levina felt immediately better as she stuffed her face. It wasn't technically meat, but it was still protein, which she was grateful for. "Hermione, chill," she dismissed, stuffing toast in her mouth.

And, indeed, it was much easier to relax when they were comfortably well fed. The argument about the dementors was forgotten in laughter that night, and for once, Levina found herself able to relax and get some well-needed sleep.

This was their first encounter with the fact that a full stomach meant good spirits, an empty one, bickering and gloom. Levina thought she'd be used to this by now, given how little she ate when she was with "Aunt" Ashby, but her temper flared up more than usual. Perhaps it was a lack of protein, but she found herself falling more and more irritable. Hermione bore up reasonably well on those nights when they managed to scavenge nothing but berries or stale biscuits, her temper perhaps a little shorter than usual and her silences dour. Ron, however, had always been used to three delicious meals a day, courtesy of his mother or of the Hogwarts house-elves, and hunger made him both unreasonable and irascible. Whenever lack of food coincided with Ron's turn to wear the Horcrux, he became downright unpleasant.

Levina couldn't judge him much for it, though; the necklace seemed to fight with her werewolf one for domination over her emotions, causing her to have irrational mood swings. One night, as she lay back on the ground staring at the sky for her watch, she was particularly temperamental. Why should she have to be doing these watches in the first place? If she didn't have much sleep, then the day-terrors would surely return. Ron should be doing more watches, she thought bitterly. Just because he had to go and get himself splinched…

Harry ducked out of the tent. "It's my turn; you can head in now."

"Oh, can I?" Levina demanded sarcastically, getting to her feet and doing a dramatic bow. "Wow, thank you, almighty Chosen One, for granting me the power to go inside. As if I couldn't do that without you telling me to," she added bitterly, kicking a nearby pile of leaves.

Harry's green eyes narrowed. "Look, I know it's just the necklace, but that's no reason for you to—"

"It's not the necklace!" Levina snapped, glaring at him fiercely. "It's the fact that all you do is boss us around, telling us what we can or can't do. Who put you in charge?"

"Dumbledore, in case you've forgotten!" Harry snarled back.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot," Levina sneered. "Dumbledore's favorite. Did I upset the all-powerful Chosen One? Huh? Did I hurt the precious, special boy's feelings?"

Harry balled his hands into fists. "That's not—"

"All anyone cares about is you," she continued, arms crossed over her chest. "Harry Potter! Oh, our savior! Oh, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! Who cares about Levina Snowpetal anymore? She's just that one weird girl with the freakish powers and the dumb last name. What does she matter now?"

Harry strode forward angrily, and for a moment, Levina thought he might hit her. Instead, he ripped the necklace off of her neck sharply and stepped back to look at her.

"Better?" he demanded, holding the chain in one clenched fist.

Levina let out a long breath. What the hell had she just been going on about? Did she seriously just say all of that, or was she so tired that she was just making up things in her head? Either way, it seemed that the necklace was bringing out her darker half, the one she kept hidden under wraps…She swallowed. "Harry, I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to nip at you like that. I'm just sleepy."

Harry nodded understandingly. Neither one of them spoke for a minute. Then Harry mumbled, "I never, uh…considered how you felt about me being more 'famous' these days."

Levina turned away, her expression guilty. She hadn't meant to spill all of that. "No, I was just being stupid and selfish. No one should have to be in your situation…I guess I just miss being something admired. I mean, I haven't heard someone in awe of me for a few good years now. It seems like everyone's just forgotten me."

She could no longer see Harry's face, but still heard him speak. "We haven't."

Levina turned back a little to manage a small smile at him. "I know. Thank you."

Silence lingered between them. Then Levina returned back to the tent, acknowledging him with a light nod before curling back up in her bunk. From then on in, she did her best to keep herself under control with the necklace. But it seemed as though Ron was having the most difficulties with it:

"So where next?" was his constant refrain. He did not seem to have any ideas himself, but expected Harry, Levina, and Hermione to come up with plans while he sat and brooded over the low food supplies. Accordingly Harry, Levina, and Hermione spent fruitless hours trying to decide where they might find the other Horcruxes, and how to destroy the one they already got, their conversations becoming increasingly repetitive as they got no new information.

As Dumbledore had evidently told Harry that he believed Voldemort had hidden the Horcruxes in places important to him, they kept reciting, in a sort of dreary litany, those locations they knew that Voldemort had lived or visited. The orphanage where he had been born and raised; Hogwarts, where he had been educated; Borgin and Burks, where he had worked after completing school; then Albania, where he had spent his years of exile: These formed the basis of their speculations.

"Yeah, let's go to Albania. Shouldn't take more than an afternoon to search an entire country," said Ron sarcastically.

"There can't be anything there. He'd already made five of his Horcruxes before he went into exile, and Dumbledore was certain the snake is the sixth," said Hermione. "We know the snake's not in Albania, it's usually with Vol— "

"Didn't I ask you to stop saying that?"

"Fine! The snake is usually with You-Know-Who—happy?"

"Not particularly."

"We shouldn't completely cancel the idea out, though," said Levina. "You never know—he could've gone back and left one there."

"I can't see him hiding anything at Borgin and Burkes." said Harry. "Borgin and Burke were experts at Dark objects, they would've recognized a Horcrux straightaway."

Ron yawned pointedly. Harry looked like he might hit him, but continued, "I still reckon he might have hidden something at Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed.

"But Dumbledore would have found it, Harry!"

"There are things even Dumbledore didn't know of," Levina pointed out. "I mean, it took him years before he discovered the Room of Requirement."

"Dumbledore said in front of me that he never assumed he knew all of Hogwart's secrets," Harry added. "I'm telling you, if there was one place Vol—"

"Oi!"

"YOU-KNOW-WHO, then!" Harry shouted. "If there was one place that was really important to You-Know-Who, it was Hogwarts!"

"Oh, come on," scoffed Ron. "His school?"

"Yeah, his school! It was his first real home, the place that meant he was special: it meant everything to him, and even after he left—"

"This is You-Know-Who we're talking about, right? Not you?" inquired Ron. He was tugging at the chain of the Horcrux around his neck.

"You told us that You-Know-Who asked Dumbledore to give him a job after he left," said Hermione.

"That's right," said Harry.

"And Dumbledore thought he only wanted to come back to try and find something, probably another founder's object, to make into another Horcrux?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"But he didn't get the job, did he?" said Hermione. "So he never got the chance to find a founder's object there and hide it in the school!"

"Okay, then," said Harry, defeated. "Forget Hogwarts."

Levina silently disagreed, but kept the thought to herself. She knew that there had to be something there—Hogwarts was the place that first accepted him for who he was, and if he hadn't left one there…

Without any other leads, they traveled into London and, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, searching for the orphanage in which Voldemort had been raised. Hermione stole into a library and discovered from their records that the place had been demolished many years before. They visited its site and found a tower block of offices.

"We could try digging in to foundations?" Hermione suggested halfheartedly.

"He wouldn't have hidden a Horcrux here," Harry said.

"Yeah, I don't think he was so keen on the orphanage," Levina agreed.

Even without any new idea, they continued to move through the countryside, pitching the tent in a different place each night for security. Every morning they made sure that they had removed all clues to their presence, then set off to find another lonely and secluded spot, traveling by Apparition to more woods, to the shadowy crevices of cliffs, to purple moors, gorse-covered mountainsides, and once a sheltered and pebbly cove. Every twelve hours or so they passed the Horcrux between them as though they were playing some perverse, slow-motion game of pass-the-parcel, where they dreaded the music stopping because the reward was twelve hours of increased fear and anxiety.

Whenever Harry wore the Horcrux, he had increasing pain in his scar. Levina could tell as he made a face and cringed every now and then, but she tried to not pester him, for fear of him snapping whilst under its influence.

"What? What did you see?" demanded Ron, whenever he noticed Harry wince.

"A face," muttered Harry, every time. "The same face. The thief who stole from Gregorovitch."

And Ron would turn away, making no effort to hide his disappointment.

As the days stretched into weeks, Levina's situation grew increasingly worse. In addition to her night terrors and insomnia, she began to have her visions again—the ones she was supposed to suppress. She would sometimes be outside the tent on a watch, and would suddenly see a flash of green light, hear her mother's scream and Voldemort's cackle…She would shriek, falling to the ground in a pitiful fetal position, screaming for it to stop and sometimes sobbing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione began to tire of this. Whenever it happened, one of them would come outside, looking groggy and annoyed, and shake her shoulder, telling her that even with the Muffliatio charm, "people in America" would hear her. They were no longer sympathetic to her situation, and it hurt. Some nights she'd be lying in bed and she'd hear her father's voice, his argument with Voldemort. She would feel the sharp sting of the Cruciatus curse, and although she'd try to hide her pain and fear, she'd always end up yelling or crying and wake the others, much to their annoyance.

Most of the time, Levina tried to keep quiet, sobbing softly into her pillow. She wished Fred was there to comfort her, to whisper gently in her ear and play with her hair until she calmed down like he always did. But seeing as this could not happen, Levina would simply imagine him next to her. It wasn't the same.

Autumn rolled over the countryside as they moved through it. They were now pitching the tent on mulches of fallen leaves. Natural mists joined those cast by the dementors; wind and rain added to their troubles. The fact that Hermione was getting better at identifying edible fungi could not altogether compensate for their continuing isolation, the lack of other people's company, or their total ignorance of what was going on in the war against Voldemort.

"My mother," said Ron on night, as they sat in the tent on a riverbank in Wales, "can make good food appear out of thin air."

Levina glowered at him. Her eyes were dark with rings and her hair hadn't been washed in far too long. She was sick of his constant complaining. Obviously all of them were just as hungry as he, but he insisted on moaning about it every five seconds.

He prodded moodily at the lumps of charred gray fish on his plate. Levina glanced automatically at Ron's neck and saw, as she has expected, the golden chain of the Horcrux glinting there.

"Your mother can't produce food out of thin air," said Hermione. "no one can. Food is the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfigura—"

"Oh, speak English, can't you?" Ron said, prying fish out from between his teeth.

"It's impossible to make good food out of nothing! You can Summon it if you know where it is, you can transform it, you can increase the quantity if you've already got some—"

"Well, don't bother increasing this, it's disgusting," said Ron.

"It's meat!" Levina snapped at him crossly. Although it was not altogether pleasant, Levina was sincerely grateful that it was protein, which her body desperately needed right now. "You should be glad for it. Otherwise I might just eat you."

"Harry and Levina caught the fish and I did my best with it! I notice I'm always the one who ends up sorting out the food, because I'm a girl, I suppose!"

"No, it's because you're supposed to be the best at magic!" shot back Ron.

Hermione jumped up and bits of roast pike slid off her tin plate onto the floor.

"You can do the cooking tomorrow, Ron, you can find the ingredients and try and charm them into something worth eating, and I'll sit here and pull faces and moan and you can see you—"

"Canine hearing!" Levina groaned, covering her ears and wincing. "You two are giving me such a massive headache—"

"No one cares about your stupid 'dog sensitivities'," Ron shot back. "At least you can actually enjoy this rubbish!"

"Well, let's see you try better, why don't you put in all the effort that we—" Hermione growled.

"Shut up!" said Harry, leaping to his feet and holding up both hands. "Shut up now!"

Hermione looked outraged.

"How can you side with him, he hardly ever does the cook—"

"Hermione, be quiet, I can hear someone!"

He was listening hard, his hands still raised, warning them not to talk. Then, over the rush and gush of the dark river beside them, Levina heard them. Their shouting had hurt her ears and she hadn't picked up on the sounds, but now that she could listen properly, she could hear every crunch of a leaf or snap of a twig.

"You cast the Muffliato charm over us, right?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

"I did everything," she whispered back, "Muffliato, Muggle-Repelling and Disillusionment Charms, all of it. They shouldn't be able to hear of see us, whoever they are."

Heavy scuffing and scraping noises, plus the sound of dislodged stones and twigs, told them that several people were clambering down the steep, wooded slope that descended to the narrow bank where they had pitched the tent. They drew their wands, waiting. The enchantments they had cast around themselves ought to be sufficient, in the near total darkness, to shield them from the notice of Muggles and normal witches and wizards. If these were Death Eaters, then perhaps their defenses were about to be tested by Dark Magic for the first time.

However, Levina checked her Wary Bangle and found it to be just as icy as before. Maybe it was damaged somehow? She couldn't think of how these people could be trustworthy in any way…

The voices became louder but no more intelligible as the group of men reached the bank. Levina estimated that their owners were fewer than twenty feet away, based on her acute hearing. Hermione snatched up the beaded bag and started to rummage; after a moment she drew out four Extendible Ears and threw one each to Harry and Ron, who hastily inserted the ends of the flesh-colored strings into their ears and fed the other ends out of the tent entrance. She offered one to Levina, but she waved it away, pointing to her own ears and mouthing "werewolf hearing."

Within seconds Levina heard a weary male voice.

"There ought to be a few salmon in here, or d'you reckon it's too early in the season? Accio Salmon!"

There were several distinct splashes and then the slapping sounds of fish against flesh. Somebody grunted appreciatively. Levina strained to listen: Over the murmur of the river she could make out more voices, but they were not speaking English or any human language he had ever heard. It was a rough and unmelodious tongue, a string of rattling, guttural noises, and there seemed to be two speakers, one with a slightly lower, slower voice than the other.

A fire danced into life on the other side of the canvas, large shadows passed between tent and flames. The delicious smell of baking salmon wafted tantalizingly in their direction. Then came the clinking of cutlery on plates, and the first man spoke again.

"Here, Griphook, Gornuk."

Goblins! Hermione mouthed at Harry, who nodded. Levina edged closer to the entrance of the tent, listening intently.

"Thank you," said the goblins together in English.

"So, you three have been on the run how long?" asked a new, mellow, and pleasant voice; it was vaguely familiar to Levina, who pictured a round-bellied, cheerful-faced man.

"Six weeks... Seven... I forget," said the tired man. "Met up with Griphook in the first couple of days and joined forces with Gornuk not long after. Nice to have a bit of company." There was a pause, while knives scraped plates and tin mugs were picked up and replaced on the ground. "What made you leave, Ted?" continued the man.

"Knew they were coming for me," replied mellow-voiced Ted, and Levina suddenly knew who he was: Tonks's father. "Heard Death Eaters were in the area last week and decided I'd better run for it. Refused to register as a Muggle-born on principle, see, so I knew it was a matter of time, knew I'd have to leave in the end. My wife should be okay, she's pure-blood. And then I met Dean here, what, a few days ago, son?"

"Yeah," said another voice, and Harry, Levina, Ron, and Hermione stared at each other, silent but besides themselves with excitement, sure they recognized the voice of Dean Thomas, their fellow Gryffindor.

"Muggle-born, eh?" asked the first man.

"Not sure," said Dean. "My dad left my mum when I was a kid. I've got no proof he was a wizard, though."

There was silence for a while, except for the sounds of munching; then Ted spoke again.

"I've got to say, Dirk, I'm surprised to run into you. Pleased, but surprised. Word was that you'd been caught."

"I was," said Dirk. "I was halfway to Azkaban when I made a break for it. Stunned Dawlish, and nicked his broom. It was easier than you'd think; I don't reckon he's quite right at the moment. Might be Confunded. If so, I'd like to shake the hand of the witch or wizard who did it, probably saved my life."

There was another pause in which the fire crackled and the river rushed on. The Ted said, "And where do you two fit in? I, er, had the impression the goblins were for You-Know-Who, on the whole."

"You had a false impression," said the higher-voiced of the goblins. "We take no sides. This is a wizards' war."

"How come you're in hiding, then?"

"I deemed imprudent," said the deeper-voiced goblin. "Having refused what I considered an impertinent request, I could see that my person safety was in jeopardy."

"What did they ask you to do?" asked Ted.

"Duties ill-befitting the dignity of my race," replied the goblin, his voice rougher and less human as he said it. "I am not a house-elf."

"What about you, Griphook?"

"Similar reasons," said the higher voiced goblin. "Gringotts is no longer under the sole control of my race. I recognize no Wizarding master."

He added something under his breath in Gobbledegook, and Gornuk laughed.

"What's the joke?" asked Dean.

"He said," replied Dirk, "that there are things wizards don't recognize, either."

There was a short pause.

"I don't get it," said Dean.

"I had my small revenge before I left," said Griphook in English.

"Good man—goblin, I should say," amended Ted hastily. "Didn't manage to lock a Death Eater up in one of the old high-security vaults, I suppose?"

"If I had, the sword would not have helped him break out," replied Griphook. Gornuk laughed again and even Dirk gave a dry chuckle.

"Dean and I are still missing something here," said Ted.

"So is Severus Snape, though he does not know it," said Griphook, and the two goblins roared with malicious laughter. Inside the tent Levina's breathing was shallow with excitement, echoing Harry and Hermione's: She and Hermione stared at each other, listening as hard as they could.

"Didn't you hear about that, Ted?" asked Dirk. "About the kids who tried to steal Gryffindor's sword out of Snape's office at Hogwarts?"

Levina muffled a gasp and leaned in closer, eyes wide.

"Never heard a word," said Ted, "Not in the Prophet, was it?"

"Hardly," chortled Dirk. "Griphook here told me, he heard about it from Bill Weasley who works for the bank. One of the kids who tried to take the sword was Bill's younger sister."

Levina glanced once in Ron's direction.

"She and a couple of friends got into Snape's office and smashed open the glass case where he was apparently keeping the sword. Snape caught them as they were trying to smuggle it down the staircase."

"Ah, God bless 'em," said Ted. "What did they think, that they'd be able to use the sword on You-Know-Who? Or on Snape himself?"

"Well, whatever they thought they were going to do with it, Snape decided the sword wasn't safe where it was," said Dirk. "Couple of days later, once he'd got the say-so from You-Know-Who, I imagine, he sent it down to London to be kept in Gringotts instead."

The goblins started to laugh again.

"I'm still not seeing the joke," said Ted.

"It's a fake," rasped Griphook.

"The sword of Gryffindor!"

"Oh yes. It is a copy—an excellent copy, it is true—but it was Wizard-made. The original was forged centuries ago by goblins and had certain properties only goblin-made armor possesses. Wherever the genuine sword of Gryffindor is, it is not in a vault at Gringotts bank."

"I see," said Ted. "And I take it you didn't bother telling the Death Eaters this."

"I saw no reason to trouble them with the information," said Griphook smugly, and now Ted and Dean joined in Gornuk and Dirk's laughter.

"What happened to Ginny and all the others? The ones who tried to steal it?"

"Oh, they were punished, and cruelly," said Griphook indifferently.

"They're okay, though?" asked Ted quickly, "I mean, the Weasleys don't need any more of their kids injured, do they?"

"They suffered no serious injury, as far as I am aware," said Griphook.

"Lucky for them," said Ted. "With Snape's track record I suppose we should just be glad they're still alive.

"You believe that story, then, do you, Ted?" asked Dirk. "You believe Snape killed Dumbledore?

"'Course I do," said Ted. "You're not going to sit there and tell me you think Potter had anything to do with it?"

"Hard to know what to believe these days," muttered Dirk.

"I know Harry Potter," said Dean. "And I reckon he's the real thing—the Chosen One, or whatever you want to call it."

"Yeah, there's a lot would like to believe he's that, son," said Dirk, "me included. But where is he? Run for it, by the looks of things. You'd think if he knew anything we don't, or had anything special going for him, he'd be out there now fighting, rallying resistance, instead of hiding. And you know, the Prophet made a pretty good case against him—"

"The Prophet?" scoffed Ted. "You deserve to be lied to if you're still reading that much, Dirk. You want the facts, try the Quibbler."

There was a sudden explosion of choking and retching, plus a good deal of thumping, by the sound of it. Dirk had swallowed a fish bone. At last he sputtered, "The Quibbler? That lunatic rag of Xeno Lovegood's?"

"It's not so lunatic these days," said Ted. "You want to give it a look, Xeno is printing all the stuff the Prophet's ignoring, not a single mention of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the last issue. How long they'll let him get with it, mind, I don't know. But Xeno says, front page of every issue, that any wizard who's against You-Know-Who ought to make helping Harry Potter their number-one priority."

"Hard to help a boy who's vanished off the face of the earth," said Dirk.

"Listen, the fact that they haven't caught him yet is one hell of an achievement," said Ted. "I'd take tips from him gladly; it's what we're trying to do, stay free, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, you've got a point there," said Dirk heavily. "With the whole of the Ministry and all their informers looking for him, I'd have expected him to be caught by now. Mind, who's to say they haven't already caught and killed him without publicizing it?"

"Ah, don't say that, Dirk," murmured Ted.

There was a long pause filled with more clattering of knives and forks. When they spoke again it was to discuss whether they ought to sleep on the back or retreat back up the wooded slope. Deciding the trees would give better cover, they extinguished their fire, then clambered back up the incline, their voices fading away.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione reeled in the Extendable Ears. Levina moved away from the tent entrance and looked at the others, eyes lit with sudden excitement.

Harry grinned, looking around at the others. "Ginny—the sword—"

"I know!" said Hermione.

She lunged for the tiny beaded bag, this time sinking her arm in it right up to the armpit.

"Here...we...are..." she said between gritted teeth, and she pulled at something that was evidently in the depths of the bag. Slowly the edge of an ornate picture frame came into sight. Harry and Levina hurried to help her. As they lifted the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus free of Hermione's bag, she kept her wand pointed at it, ready to cast a spell at any moment.

"If somebody swapped the real sword for the face while it was in Dumbledore's office," she panted, as they propped the painting against the side of the tent, "Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hangs right beside the case!"

"He might've dosed off, though," said Levina.

Hermione knelt down in front of the empty canvas, her wand directed at its center, cleared her throat, then said:

"Er—Phineas? Phineas Nigellus?"

Nothing happened.

"Phineas Nigellus?" said Hermione again. "Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?"

"'Please' always helps," said a cold, snide voice, and Phineas Nigellus slid into his portrait. At once, Hermione cried:

"Obscura!"

A black blindfold appeared over Phineas Nigellus's clever, dark eyes, causing him to bump into the frame and shriek with pain.

"What—how dare—what are you—?"

"I'm very sorry, Professor Black," said Hermione, "but it's a necessary precaution!"

"Remove this foul addition at once! Remove it, I say! You are ruining a great work of art! Where am I? What is going on?"

"Never mind where we are," said Harry, and Phineas Nigellus froze, abandoning his attempts to peel off the painted blindfold.

"Can that possible be the voice of the elusive Mr. Potter?"

"Maybe," said Harry, knowing that this would keep Phineas Nigellus's interest. "We've got a couple of questions to ask you—about the sword of Gryffindor."

"Ah," said Phineas Nigellus, now turning his head this way and that in an effort to catch sight of Harry, "Yes. That silly girl acted most unwisely there—"

"Shut up about my sister," said Ron roughly, and Phineas Nigellus raised supercilious eyebrows.

"Who else is here?" he asked, turning his head from side to side. "Your tone displeases me! The girl and her friends were foolhardy in the extreme. Thieving from the headmaster."

"They weren't thieving," said Harry. "That sword isn't Snape's."

"It belongs to Professor Snape's school," said Phineas Nigellus. "Exactly what claim did the Weasley girl have upon it? She deserved her punishment, as did the idiot Longbottom and the Lovegood oddity!"

"You shut the hell up!" Levina ordered sharply.

"Neville is not an idiot and Luna is not an oddity!" said Hermione.

"Ah? Could it be that that last voice was of Levina Snowpetal?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Where am I?" repeated Phineas Nigellus, starting to wrestle with the blindfold again. "Where have you brought me? Why have you removed me from the house of my forebears?"

"Never mind that! How did Snape punish Ginny, Neville, and Luna?" asked Harry urgently.

"Professor Snape sent them into the Forbidden Forest, to do some work for the oaf, Hagrid."

"Hagrid's not an oaf!" said Hermione shrilly.

"Thank god," Levina breathed, relieved. Punishment with Hagrid? It was almost an oxymoron.

"And Snape might've though that was a punishment," said Harry, "but Ginny, Neville, and Luna probably had a good laugh with Hagrid. The Forbidden Forest...they've faced plenty worse than the Forbidden Forest, big deal!"

"What we really wanted to know, Professor Black, is whether anyone else has, um, taken out the sword at all?" said Hermione. "Maybe it's been taken away for cleaning—or something!"

Phineas Nigellus paused again in his struggles to free his eyes and sniggered.

"Muggle-born," he said, "Goblin-made armor does not require cleaning, simple girl. Goblin's silver repels mundane dirt, imbibing only that which strengthens it."

"Don't call Hermione simple," said Harry.

"I think you should treat us with a little more respect, given your current situation," Levina advised thinly.

"I grow weary of contradiction," said Phineas Nigellus. "perhaps it is time for me to return to the headmaster's office...?"

Still blindfolded, he began groping the side of his frame, trying to feel his way out of his picture and back into the one at Hogwarts. Levina pursed her lips.

"Dumbledore!" Harry said suddenly. "Can't you bring us Dumbledore?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Phineas Nigellus.

"Professor Dumbledore's portrait—couldn't you bring him along, here, into yours?"

Phineas Nigellus turned his face in the direction of Harry's voice.

"Evidently it is not only Muggle-borns who are ignorant, Potter. The portraits of Hogwarts may commune with each other, but they cannot travel outside of the castle except to visit a painting of themselves elsewhere. Dumbledore cannot come here with me, and after the treatment I have received at your hands, I can assure you that I will not be making a return visit!"

Annoyed and slightly downtrodden, Levina watched Phineas redouble his attempts to leave his frame.

"Professor Black," said Hermione, "couldn't you just tell us, please, when was the last time the sword was taken out of its case? Before Ginny took it out, I mean?"

Phineas snorted impatiently.

"I believe that the last time I saw the sword of Gryffindor leave its case was when Professor Dumbledore used it to break open a ring."

Hermione whipped around to look at Harry and Levina. None of them dared say more in front of Phineas Nigellus, who had at last managed to locate the exit.

"Well, good night to you," he said a little waspishly, and he began to move out of sight again. Only the edge of his hat brim remained in view when Harry gave a sudden shout.

"Wait! Have you told Snape you saw this?"

Phineas Nigellus stuck his blindfolded head back into the picture.

"Professor Snape has more important things on his mind that the many eccentricities of Albus Dumbledore. Good-bye, Potter!"

And with that, he vanished completely, leaving behind him nothing but his murky backdrop.

"Harry!" Hermione cried.

"I know!" Harry shouted. He punched the air and Levina jumped up and down like a careless schoolgirl, beaming from ear to ear.

"This is fantastic! I didn't think he'd tell us so much," Levina remarked, clapping her hands together in delight.

Hermione was squashing Phineas Nigellus's back into the beaded bag; when she had fastened the clasp she threw the bag aside and raised a shining face to Levina and Harry.

"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthens them—that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

"Which means we could use it on the locket!"

"And Dumbledore didn't give it to me because he still needed it, he wanted to use it on the locket—"

"—and he must have realized they wouldn't let you have it if he put it in his will—"

"—so he made a copy—"

"—and put a fake in the glass case—"

"—and he left the real one—where?"

They gazed at one another for a long pause, all thinking. Levina wondered why Dumbledore didn't disclose the information to Harry…or did he? Privately, perhaps? Without being blunt?

"Think!" whispered Hermione. "Think! Where would he have left it?"

"Not at Hogwarts," said Harry, resuming his pacing.

"Which I assume means not the Forbidden Forest," added Levina.

"Somewhere in Hogsmeade?" suggested Hermione.

"The Shrieking Shack?" said Harry. "Nobody ever goes in there."

"But Snape knows how to get in, wouldn't that be a bit risky?"

"Dumbledore trusted Snape," Harry reminded her.

"Not enough to tell him that he had swapped the swords," said Hermione.

"Yeah, you're right!" said Harry.

"Which means it can't be anywhere on the grounds surrounding Hogwarts," said Levina.

"So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

They all looked around. For one bewildered moment Levina thought that Ron had left the tent, then realized that Ron was lying in the shadow of a bunk, looking stony. She blinked, frowning.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" he said.

"What?"

Ron snorted as he stared up at the underside of the upper bunk.

"You three carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Perplexed, Harry looked to the others, but they shook their heads.

"I'm lost," said Levina, staring at Ron with a blank expression.

"What's the problem?" asked Harry.

"Problem? There's no problem," said Ron, still refusing to look them in the eye. "Not according to you, anyways."

There were several plunks on the canvas over their heads. It had started to rain. Levina's eyes drifted upward to scan the ceiling a moment before returning to look at him. Normally, she would be compelled to run out in it, but this was certainly not the time. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips. The hell was Ron's issue?

"Well, you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"

Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He looked mean, unlike himself.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"I don't know?" repeated Harry. "I don't know?"

Plunk, plunk, plunk. The rain was falling harder and heavier; it pattered on the leaf-strewn bank all around them and into the river chattering through the dark.

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," said Ron, "you know, what with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron," Hermione said, but in such a quiet voice that Ron could pretend not to have heard it over the loud tattoo the rain was beating on the tent.

"You do realize we're all in the same boat here, yeah?" said Levina, teeth grit as she glared at him.

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for." said Harry.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations?" asked Harry. "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

"We thought you knew what you were doing!" shouted Ron, standing up. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Ron!" said Hermione, this time clearly audible over the rain thundering on the tent roof, but again, he ignored her.

"Well, sorry to let you down," said Harry, his voice quite calm even though he felt hollow, inadequate. "I've been straight with you from the start. I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in the case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux—"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them—nowhere effing near in other words."

"You shut your damn mouth," Levina snarled.

"Why? Because you know I'm right? Don't act all high and mighty, you thought he knew what he was doing, too!"

The words stung Levina deeply and she avoided Harry's eyes. He was right; she had expected that Dumbledore had been more elaborate with him, that things would go more smoothly…But she was Harry's friend, and if finding a solution meant going without food and camping out in the unknown, then she was all for it.

"Take off the locket, Ron," Hermione said, her voice unusually high. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah, he would," said Harry, who did not want excuses made for Ron. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

"Harry, we weren't—"

"Don't lie!" Ron hurled at her. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"

"I didn't say it like that—Harry, I didn't!" she cried.

Levina was taken aback. She hadn't spoken a word behind Harry's back about the plan—she'd had her doubts, of course, but she'd kept them to herself.

The rain was pounding the tent, tears were pouring down Hermione's face, and the excitement of a few minutes before had vanished as if it had never been, a short-lived firework that had flared and died, leaving everything dark, wet, and cold. The sword of Gryffindor was hidden they knew not where, and there were four teenagers in a tent whose only achievement was not, yet, to be dead.

"So why are you still here?" Harry asked Ron.

"Search me," said Ron.

"Go home then," said Harry.

"Yeah, maybe I will!" shouted Ron, and he took several steps toward Harry, who did not back away. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I've-Faced-Worse Potter doesn't care what happened to her in there—well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff—"

"I was only saying—she was with the others, they were with Hagrid—"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured,' did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I—"

"Not bothered what it meant, though?"

"Ron!" said Hermione, forcing her way between them. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about; think, Ron, Bill's already scared, plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant—"

"Oh, you're sure, are you? Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way—"

"My parents are dead!" Harry bellowed.

"Ron, you inconsiderate dipshit!" Levina shrieked. She'd completely lost her cool now, eyes brimming with sudden hot tears that she feebly blinked back.

"And mine could be going the same way!" yelled Ron.

"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you're got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"

Ron made a sudden movement: Harry reacted and Levina fumbled for her wand, but before either wand was clear of its owner's pocket, Hermione had raised her own.

"Prestego!" she cried, and an invisible shield expanded between her, Levina, and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other; all of them were forced backward a few steps by the strength of the spell, and Harry, Levina, and Ron glared from either side of the transparent barrier as though they were seeing each other clearly for the first time.

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said.

Ron wrenched the chain from over his head and cast the locket into a nearby chair. He turned to Hermione.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I..." She looked anguished. "Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

"I get it. You choose him."

"Ron, no—please—"

"What about you, then?" he demanded of Levina, eyes narrowed darkly in her direction.

Levina balled her hands into fists. "What the hell makes you think I'm coming? Good riddance to you, we're better off without your brooding company."

Ron snorted derisively and turned away.

"Ron, please—come back, come back!"

She was impeded by her own Shield Charm; by the time she had removed it he had already stormed into the night. Levina stood in heated silence beside Harry, listening to her sobbing and calling Ron's name amongst the trees.

After a few minutes she returned, her sopping hair plastered to her face.

"He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!"

She threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry.

Harry stooped wordlessly, picked up the Horcrux, and placed it around his own neck. He dragged blankets off Ron's bunk and threw them over Hermione. Then he climbed onto his own bed and stared up at the dark canvas roof, listening to the pounding of the rain. Levina hoisted herself into her bed and lay on her side, swallowing a lump of guilt mixed with her initial resentment as the rain struck hard against the tent.