Chapter 193: Dumbledore's Will

My wonderful dream of Hermione was interrupted right when she was about to take her top of by Harry. My eyes snapped open as his whimpering had awakened me.

"Harry?" I said thinking maybe he had hit something. I looked over abs seen he was still asleep.

"Gregorovitch.." he muttered, turning his head from side to side.

I sat up and watched him. He made a hissing noise like he was in pain and repeated the strange name again.

"Oi, wake up." I said a bit louder.

Harry eyes snapped open. He looked around frantically for a second as if he didnt realize where he was.

"You were muttering in your sleep, mate." I told him.

"Was I?"

"Yeah. 'Gregorovitch.' You kept saying 'Gregorovitch.'"

Harry seemed confused by my words."Who's Gregorovitch?"

"I dunno, do I?" You were the one saying it."

Harry rubbed his forehead, his scared must have been bothering him. "I think Voldemort's looking for him."

"Poor bloke," I said, feeling sorry for whoever that unlucky son of a bitch was.

Harry sat up, still rubbing his scar, now wide awake. "I think he's abroad." he said.

"Who, Gregorovitch?"

"Voldemort. I think he's somewhere abroad, looking for Gregorovitch. It didn't look like anywhere in Britain."

What Harry was saying sounded so bizarre. "You reckon you were seeing into his mind again?" I asked, worried that he had let You Know Who into his mind again.

"Do me a favor and don't tell Hermione," said Harry. "Although how she expects me to stop seeing stuff in my sleep."

"You would have me keep a secret from Hermione." I groaned.

"I think," he said slowly, "he's got something to do with Quidditch. There's some connection, but I can't, I can't think what it is."

"Quidditch?" I said, giving Hart an odd look. "Sure you're not thinking of Gorgovitch?"

"Who?"

"Dragomir Gorgovitch, Chaser, transferred to the Chudley Cannons for a record fee two years ago. Record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season."

"No," said Harry. "I'm definitely not thinking of Gorgovitch."

"I try not to either," I chuckled. "Well, happy birthday anyway."

"Wow, that's right, I forgot! I'm seventeen!"

"What git forgets his own birthday?" I joked.

"Sod off," said Harry, as he seized the wand lying beside his camp bed, pointed it at my desk.

"Accio Glasses!" he said, even though they were only around a foot away. The glasses rose up off the desk and zoomed towards his face, poking him in the eye.

"Slick," I snorted

"I'll show you slick."

Harry then sent random shit of mine flying around the room, causing Pig to wake up and flutter excitedly around his cage. Harry also tried tying the laces of his trainers by magic (he ended up with more knots than bows) and, to my horror, changed the orange robes on my Chudley Cannons posters bright blue.

"I'd do your fly by hand, though," I advised Harry, sniggering when Harry immediately checked it. "Here's your present. Unwrap it up here, it's not for my mother's eyes."

"A book?" said Harry as he took the rectangular parcel. "Bit of a departure from tradition, isn't it?"

"This isn't your average book, it's pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I'd had this last year I'd have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would've known how to get going with..."

I paused. Was I ready to admit to my best mate that I fancied our other best mate? What would he say? Would it be right to tell him about us, whatever Hermione and I were, while we were getting ready to go on the hunt?

"Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I've learned a lot." I continued, deciding to keep my feelings to myself. "You'd be surprised, it's not all about wand work, either."

"Wand work?" asked Harry as he took the wrapping paper off.

"Oh come off it Harry, you know what I mean." I said.

"Wait so they have shit about that in here too?" said Harry in an intrigued voice.

"They have a whole chapter dedicated to it, mate."

"Finally, a book I'll definitely enjoy."

A while later, we got dressed and headed downstairs. When we arrived in the kitchen we found a pile of presents waiting on the and Monsieur Delacour were finishing their breakfasts, while Mum stood chatting to them over the frying pan.

"Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry," said Mum ,beaming at him. "He had to leave early for work, but he'll be back for dinner. That's our present on top."

Harry sat down, took the square parcel she had indicated, and unwrapped it. Inside was a watch identical to the one that they had given me for my seventeenth birthday, only it looked a bit more worn.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age," said Mum, eyeing him, trying to gage his reaction. "'m afraid that one isn't new like Ron's, it was actually my brother Fabian's and he wasn't terribly careful with his possessions, it's a bit dented on the back, but-"

The rest of her speech was lost; Harry had got up and hugged her. a part of me couldn't help but feel slighted. I liked my new watch a lot, but it would have been brilliant to have my late Uncle Fabian's watch instead. Why did they give it to Harry and not me? Did they think I wouldn't take proper care of it? Did they feel like I wouldn't appreciate it because it was another hand me down?

I tried to push my envy to the side. It had to be a logical explanation to it, which I was going to most definitely ask.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hermione, hurrying into the kitchen and adding her own present to the top of the pile. "It's not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?" she asked me.

I acted as if I didn't hear her. No way was I going to tell her that I had given him that book.

"Come on, then, open Hermione's!" I said, overenthusiastically.

She had bought him a new Sneakoscope. The other packages contained an enchanted razor from Bill and Fleur ("Ah yes, zis will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever 'ave," Monsieur Delacour assured him, "but you must tell it clearly what you want...ozzerwise you might find you 'ave a leetle less hair zan you would like..."),chocolates from the Delacours, and an enormous box of the latest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes merchandise from Fred and George.

"I'll pack these for you," Hermione said brightly, taking Harry's presents out of his arms as the three of us headed back upstairs. "I'm nearly done, I'm just waiting for the rest of your underpants to come out of the wash, Ron-"

"Hermione, you are not about to tell me you have been around my underwear!" I exclaimed, feeling my entire face turn colors.

"Okay, I won't tell you that I've seen your Chudley Cannons knickers." giggled Hermione.

"Oh you are a piece of work. you are." I laughed, my embarrassment waning after Hermione's joke. "How you like it if I saw your knickers."

I placed a hand over my mouth. That remark could have implied anything, and I didnt want to make Hermione feel uncomfortable.

Hermione looked as if she was about to say something, but hurried up the stairs towards my room. Great. I had blown it.

"Mione, wait!" I said, rushing after her into my room." I didn't mean anything by-"

"It's fine, Ron. Really," said Hermione nervously. "It's just something silly I thought of, that's all."

"What was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you, Ronald Weasley!"

"Why? Is it dirty?" I joked.

"You're disgusting," said Hermione. though her voice sounded more comical than irritated.

I looked behind me and noticed Harry hadn't followed us in. "Hey, where did Harry go?"

Hermione suddenly looked worried. "I think Ginny called him for a present." she said.

Something about the way she had said that rubbed me the wrong way. I turned around and headed out my room.

"Ron, wait!"

I ignored Hermione and headed down the steps to Ginny's room. I pushed open the which hit the wall with a bang. There I had caught Harry and Ginny jumping away from each other, staring at me like they were shocked to see me. It didn't take a rocket man (was that how the muggle expression went?) to figure out what I had interrupted.

"Oh," I said pointedly. "Sorry."

"Ron!" Hermione said appearing behind me, slight out of breath.

There was an awkward silence where we all looked at each other, then Ginny had said in a flat little voice,

"Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry."

My face was hot. Harry looked at Ginny as if he was pleading for her to stick around. I didn't care at all how he had felt. How fucking dare he play with my sister's emotions like that. He was the one that broke her heart. I had to coax the story out of her and after she told me. she had cried. Cried! Ginny was never one to cry, and he had done that to my sister. And now, he was fucking snogging her?!

I turned around and marched downstairs. I didn't even noticed that I had been followed until I forgot outside and felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned sharply and faced Harry.

"You ditched her. What are you doing now, messing her around?" I demanded.

"I'm not messing her around," said Harry, as Hermione caught up with us.

"Ron-"

I held up a hand to silence her. I did not want to hear her mouth at the moment.

"She was really cut up when you ended it-"

"So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn't because I wanted to."

"Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she's just going to get her hopes up again!" I argued.

"She's not an idiot, she knows it can't happen, she's not expecting us to-to end up married, or-"

"If you keep groping her every chance you get-"

"It won't happen again," said Harry harshly. "Okay?"

I felt like he was talking me the truth. However, I was still cross with him. I refused to have Ginny moping around depressed over him again, even if he was my best mate.

"Right then, well, that's...yeah." I said, not knowing what else to say.

Harry nodded and walked back into the house. Hermione glared at me as if I was the one who had done something wrong.

"What?" I questioned. "I suppose you're going to tell me I was wrong?"

"No. I was going to tell you that I understand that you're trying to look out for her, which is wonderful, but Ginny is a big girl that can take care of her own self." said Hermione firmly.

I opened my mouth to retort, but snapped it shut, having nothing to say.

Ginny and Harry were oddly polite to each other for the rest of the day. Charlie arrived later on and things went back to normal after watching Mum force Charlie into a chair, raise her wand threateningly, and announce that he was about to get a proper haircut.

As Harry's birthday dinner would have stretched the Burrow's kitchen to breaking point even before the arrival of Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid, several tables were placed end to end in the garden. Fred and George bewitched a number of purple lanterns all burning with a large number 17, to hang in midair over the guests. Hermione made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand and drape themselves artistically over the trees and bushes.

"Nice," I said, as with one final flourish of her wand, Hermione

turned the leaves on the crabapple tree to gold. "You've really got an eye for that sort of thing."

"Thank you, Ron!" said Hermione, looking both pleased and a little confused. I had been paying her a lot of compliments throughout the day, and it was fun seeing her be pleasantly flustered by them. That, and it felt good to see her smile by me saying nice things about her.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" sang Mum coming through the gate with a cake shaped like a huge Snitch in front of her, which Mum was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven ground. When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table.

That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley." said Harry.

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said fondly.

"Good one." I mouthed to Harry from over her shoulder, giving him a thumbs up.

By seven o'clock all the guests had arrived, led into the house by Fred and George,who had waited for them at the end of the lane. Hagrid had honored the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit.

"All righ', Ron, Hermione?"

"We're fine," said Hermione. "How are you?"

"Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns. I'll show yeh when yeh get back-" Harry avoided Hermione and my gazes as Hagrid rummaged in his pocket."Here. Harry - couldn't think what ter get teh, but then I remembered this."

He pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it 're rare, them."

"Hagrid, thanks!"

"'S'nothin'," said Hagrid with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. "An' there's Charlie! Always liked him - hey! Charlie!"

Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut. It still amazed me that I had gotten to be taller than him. The little brother was bigger than the big brother.

"Hi, Hagrid, how's it going?" said Charlie, shaking Hagrid's massive hand.

"Bin meanin' ter write fer ages. How's Norbert doin'?"

"Norbert?" Charlie laughed. "The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now."

"Wha - Norbert's a girl?"

"Oh yeah," said Charlie.

"How can you tell?" asked Hermione.

"They're a lot more vicious," said Charlie. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. "Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum's getting edgy."

We looked over at Mum. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate.

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. "He must have been held up at - oh!"

We all saw it at the same time: a streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Dad's voice.

Malfoy would be beside his fucking self if he knew my dad's Patronus was a weasel.

"Minister of Magic coming with me."

The Patronus dissolved into thin air, leaving Fleur's family peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished.

"We shouldn't be here," said Lupin at once. "Harry, I'm sorry, I'll explain some other time."

He grabbed Tonks's wrist and pulled her away; they reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mum looked bewildered.

"The Minister? But why? I don't understand..."

A second later, Dad appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair. Harry, Hermione, and I collectively groaned.

"Sorry to intrude," said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table."Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party."

His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant Snitch cake.

"Many happy returns."

"Thanks," said Harry dryly.

"I require a private word with you," Scrimgeour went on. "Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Us?" I said surprised. "Why us?"

"I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," said Scrimgeour. "Is there such a place?" he asked Dad.

"Yes, of course," said Dad, who looked nervous. "The, er, sitting room,why don't you use that?"

"You can lead the way," Scrimgeour said to me. "There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur."

I didn't appreciate his tone, however, Hermione and I stood up and walked towards the house with Harry and Scrimgeour in tow.

Scrimgeour did not speak as we all passed through the kitchen and into the sitting room. Although the garden had been full of soft golden evening light, it was already dark in here; Harry flicked his wand at the oil lamps as he entered. Scrimgeour sat himself in Dad's chair, leaving us three to sit on the couch, with me in the middle of Harry and Hermione.

"I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you two" - he pointed at Harry and Hermione - "can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."

"We're not going anywhere," said Harry, while Hermione nodded vigorously."You can speak to us together, or not at all."

I was relieved. The man positively unnerved me. I felt like he could possibly Avada Kedavra us at any given moment.

Scrimgeour gave Harry a cold look, but nodded.

"Very well then, together," he said, shrugging. He cleared his throat. "I am here,as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

The three of us looked at one another. I had never given a thought to Dumbledore having a will, and from the looks of the others, neither did they.

"A surprise, apparently! You were not aware then that Dumbledore had left you anything?"

"A-all of us?" I asked. "Me and Hermione too?"

"Yes, all of -"

"Dumbledore died over a month ago." interrupted Harry. "Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, her voice dripping with attitude. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right," said Scrimgeour dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power the confiscate the contents of a will."

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts," said Hermione," and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

Damn Hermione was sexy when she was going against authority.

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.

"No, I'm not," retorted Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"

I laughed. Merlin, she was brilliant. Scrimgeour's eyes flickered toward me and away again as Harry spoke.

"So why have you decided to let us have our things now? Can't think of a pretext to keep them?"

"No, it'll be because thirty-one days are up," said Hermione at once. "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they're dangerous. Right?"

Something was wrong with me. I was actually getting extremely turned on by the way Hermione was being so defiant. I wondered if I could convince her to snog me later

"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" asked Scrimgeour,ignoring Hermione.

I was stunned by the question. "Me? Not - not really... It was always Harry who..."

I looked around at Harry and Hermione, who gave me a look that clearly meant shut the fuck up. However, Scrimgeour looked as though he had heard exactly what he had expected, and wanted, to hear.

"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions - his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects - were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

"I...dunno," I said, trying not to show that the man was freaking me the hell out. "I...when I say we weren't close...I mean, I think he liked me..."

"You're being modest, Ron," said Hermione. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."

Hermione was lying. I may have had a couple conversations with Dumbledore, but never on the level of Harry. Not even close. I didn't even know his middle name.

Scrimgeour did not seem to be listening. He put his hand inside his cloak and drew out a drawstring pouch much larger than the one Hagrid had given Harry. From it, he removed a scroll of parchment which he unrolled and read aloud.

"'The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'...Yes, here we are... 'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'"

Scrimgeour took from the bag something that looked like what muggles used to spit fire to cut on those things called fags that they smoked. Scrimgeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to me.

It felt cool and light in my hands.

"That is a valuable object," said Scrimgeour, watching me like a rabid hippogriff. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you and item so rare?"

I shook my head, not knowing how to answer the question. I could feel Hermione slightly pinching my thigh, as if to signal me to say nothing.

"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," Scrimgeour persevered."Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put to the Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I s'pose," I mumbled. "What else could I do with it?"

That was the truth. All I knew that it did was capture lights.

Evidently Scrimgeour had no suggestions. After squinting at me for a moment or two, he turned back to Dumbledore's will.

"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'"

Scrimgeour pulled out of the bag a small book that looked about as tattered as some of the books in my room Hermione had collected. Its binding was stained and peeling in places. Hermione took it from Scrimgeour without a word. She held the book in her lap and gazed at it. The title was in runes. A tear splashed onto the symbols.

"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.

"He... he knew I liked books," said Hermione in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.

"But why that particular book?"

"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

"No, I didn't," said Hermione, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "And if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will."

She suppressed a sob. I managed to free my arm and put it around Hermione's shoulders. She laid her face into my shoulder, silently sobbing.

"'To Harry James Potter,'" Scrimgeour continued, "'I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'"

As Scrimgeour pulled out the tiny, walnut-sized golden ball, its silver wings fluttered rather feebly. Harry gazed at it fondly.

"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?" asked Scrimgeour.

"No idea," said Harry. "For the reasons you just read out, I suppose... to remind me what you can get if you... persevere and whatever it was."

"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"I suppose so," said Harry. "What else could it be?"

"I'm asking the questions," said Scrimgeour, shifting his chair a little closer to the sofa.

"I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch," Scrimgeour said to Harry. "Why is that?"

Hermione, who had lifted her head from my shoulder, gave a laugh.

"Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious," she said. "There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!"

Oh yeah, Hermione and I were definitely snogging later.

"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing," said Scrimgeour sharply, "but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

Harry shrugged, Hermione, however, answered: "Because Snitches have flesh memories," she said.

"What?" said Harry and I together. how the hell did she know something Quidditch related that the both of us didn't?

"Correct," said Scrimgeour. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch" he held up the tiny golden ball "will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you."

I got nervous again. If Dumbledore did indeed hide a secret in the snitch, it would instantly be revealed when Harry touched it.

"You don't say anything," said Scrimgeour. "Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"

"No," said Harry, looking as if the wheels in his head was turning.

"Take it," said Scrimgeour quietly.

Harry looked Minister's yellow eyes and knew he had no option but to obey. He held out his hand, and Scrimgeour leaned forward again and place the Snitch, slowly and deliberately, into Harry's palm.

Nothing happened.

"That was dramatic," said Harry coolly. Hermione and I laughed.

"That's all, then, is it?" asked Hermione, getting up off the sofa.

"Not quite," said Scrimgeour, who looked pissed. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," he said.

My insides froze. He really left such a special thing to Harry? However, Scrimgeour did not pull the sword from the leather pouch, which in any case looked much too small to contain it.

"So where is it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Unfortunately," said Scrimgeour, "that sword was not Dumbledore's to giveaway. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such,belongs-"

"It belongs to Harry!" said Hermione hotly. "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat!"

"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor," said Scrimgeour. "That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided."

Scrimgeour scratched his badly shaven cheek, scrutinizing Harry. "Why do you think-?"

"-Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" said Harry, looking aa if he was about to lose it. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."

"This is not a joke, Potter!" growled Scrimgeour. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Something told me that he knew a bit more than what he let on. Guess we would have to kill him.

"Interesting theory," said Harry. "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So this is what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying, I was nearly one of them – Voldemort chased me across three countries, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there's no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"

"You go too far!" shouted Scrimgeour, standing up: Harry jumped to his feet limped toward Harry and jabbed him hard in the chest with the point of his wand; It singed a hole in Harry's T-shirt.

"Oi!" I yelped, jumping up and raising my own wand, ready to fight, but Harry said,

"No! D'you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?"

"Remembered you're not at school, have you?" said Scrimgeour breathing hard into Harry's face. "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it." said Harry.

The floor trembled; there was a sound of running footsteps, then the door to the sitting room burst open and Mum and Dad ran in.

"We - we thought we heard -" began Dad, looking alarmed at the sight of Harry and the Minister virtually nose to nose.

"—raised voices," finished Mum.

Scrimgeour took a couple of steps back from Harry, glancing at the hole he had made in Harry's T-shirt. He looked like he regretted what he had done, however, we certainly didn't give a damn.

"It – it was nothing," he growled. "I … regret your attitude," he said, looking Harry full in the face once more, as if Harry was to blame. "You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to work together."

"I don't like your methods, Minister," said Harry. "Remember?"

He raised his right fist and displayed to Scrimgeour the scar that still showed white on the back of it, spelling I must not tell lies.

Scrimgeour's expression hardened. He turned away without another word and limped from the room. Mum hurried after him; I heard her stop at the back door. After a minute or so she called, "He's gone!"

What did he want?" Dad asked, looking around at us as Mum came hurrying back to us.

"To give us what Dumbledore left us," said Harry. "They've only just released the content of his will."

Mum and Dad beckoned us back outside.

Outside in the garden, over the dinner tables, the three objects Scrimgeour had given us were passed from hand to hand. Everyone exclaimed over the Deluminator and The Tales of Beedle the Bard and was annoyed by the fact that Scrimgeour had refused to pass on the sword, but none of them could offer any suggestion as to why Dumbledore would have left Harry an old Snitch. As Dad examined the Deluminator for the third of fourth time, Mum exclaimed "Harry, dear, everyone's awfully hungry we didn't like to start without you… Shall I serve dinner now?"

We all ate rather hurriedly and then after a hasty chorus of "Happy Birthday"and much gulping of cake, the party broke up. Hagrid, who was invited to the wedding the following day, but was far too bulky to sleep in the overstretched Burrow, left to setup a tent for himself in a neighboring field.

Up in the my room, I examined his Deluminator, and Harry filled Hagrid's mokeskin purse with things we were more than likely going to need on the hunt like (though I didn't understand that as it was only a map of Hogwarts), the Marauder's Map, a broken mirror piece ,and R.A.B.'s locket. He pulled the string tight and slipped the purse around his neck, then sat holding the od Snitch and watching its wings flutter.

"What do you reckon, Ron?" he asked me.

"Dunno." I answered. "I'm still trying to figure out this shit here."

A few seconds later,Hermione tapped on the door and tiptoed inside.

"Muffliato," she whispered, waving her wand in the direction of the stairs.

"Thought you didn't approve of that spell?" I mocked.

"Times change," said Hermione. "Now, show us that Deluminator."

I held it up in front of me, clicking it. My lit lamp went out at once.

"The thing is," whispered Hermione through the dark, "we could have achieved that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

I clicked it again, and the ball of light from the lamp flew back to the ceiling and illuminated the room again.

"Still, it's cool," I said, beginning to feel affectionate over it. "And from what they said,Dumbledore invented it himself!"

"I know but, surely he wouldn't have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights!" snapped Hermione.

"D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he'd left us?" asked Harry.

"Definitely," said Hermione. "He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that will doesn't explain…"

"… why he couldn't have given us a hint when he was alive?" I said suspiciously.

"Well, exactly," said Hermione, now flicking through The Tales of Beedle the Bard. "If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you'd think he'd have left us know why… unless he thought it was obvious?"

"Thought wrong, then, didn't he?" I sighed. "I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch – what the hell was that about?"

"I've no idea," said Hermione. "When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"

"Yeah, well," said Harry, as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. "I wasn't going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour was I?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match?" said Harry. "Don't you remember?"

Hermione looked confused. however, realization dawned on me as I remembered back to the match. I gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until I could get my words right.

"That was the one you nearly

swallowed!" I exclaimed.

"Exactly," said Harry, as he pressed his mouth to the Snitch.

It did not open. Both and Harry and I's faces fell with disappointment, but then Hermione cried out.

"Writing! There's writing on it, quick, look!"

Engraved upon the smooth golden surface were words that said 'I open at the close.'

"I open at the close…." What's that supposed to mean?" wondered Harry.

Hermione and I shook our heads. I had never heard such an odd sentence before.

"I open at the close… at the close… I open at the close…" we repeated, trying to make sense of it.

But no matter how many times we said the words. it still made no sense. i was starting to get a bit frustrated.

"And the sword. Why did he want Harry to have the sword?" I asked out loud.

"And why couldn't he just have told me?" Harry said quietly. "I was there, it was right there on the wall of his office during all our talks last year! If he wanted me to have it, why didn't he just give it to me then?"

Harry's face mimicked my thoughts. It seemed as if Dumbledore was playing a bit of a game. And it wasn't at almost fun.

"And as for this book." said Hermione, "The Tales of Beedle the Bard … I've never even heard of them!"

"You've never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" I gasped."You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not," said Hermione in surprise. "Do you know them then?"

"Well, of course I do!" I said both aatonished and amused that she hadn't known. Finally, a book that she hadn't read that I knew about that wasn't Quidditch related.

"Oh come on! All the old kids' stories are supposed to be Beedle's aren't they? 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune', 'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot', 'Babbitty Rabbitty And her Cackling Stump'…"

"Excuse me?" said Hermione giggling. "What was the last one?"

"Come off it!" I said. no longer amused that neither of them knew what I was talking about. "You must've heard of Babbitty Rabbitty –"

"Ron, you know full well Harry and I were brought up by Muggles!" said Hermione. "We didn't hear stories like that when we were little, we heard 'Snow White And the Seven Dwarfs' and 'Cinderella' –"

"What's that, an illness?" I asked, confused? That shit sounded dangerous. I wanted no parts of a Cinderella.

"So these are children's stories?" asked Hermione, bending against over the runes.

"Yeah. I mean, just what you hear, you know, that all these old stories came from Beedle. I dunno what they're like in the original versions."

"But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?" Hermione said, tracing the runes with her fingers.

Something cracked downstairs, causing us to jump in alarm.

"Probably just Charlie, now Mum's asleep, sneaking off to regrow his hair," I said more to comfort myself than the others.

"All the same, we should get to bed," whispered Hermione. "It wouldn't do to oversleep tomorrow."

"No. A brutal triple murder by the bridegroom's mother might put a bit of damper on the wedding. I'll get the light."

I clicked the Deluminator once more as Hermione left the room. Before she closed the door however, I rushed over and gave her a quick kiss.

"That was for today when you were arguing with Scrimgeour," I whispered. "You were fucking hot."

"Language," whispered Hermione. "But thank you."