Chapter Thirteen
The Trouble with Trinkets
The attack on Hogsmead was discussed ad nauseam, especially by those who took no part in its defence. It was amazing how many had shot a spell over their shoulders as they had helped others into the meagre shelter of this or that building, or how many had faced the horrors of the giant and the dark wizards. Those who did the actual fighting and had really fired the spells said very little, at least to those who had not been with them, and counted it as very lucky that no one had been killed. There were some very nasty injuries and seven of the most serious were still in St Mungo's, all but one were expected to make a complete recovery, given time.
The student for whom time would not prove to be the great healer was quite unconcerned about his fate, he felt no pain, and had no memories of the spell that struck him down. That was the problem he had no memories at all. The Aurors had found the lad wandering the streets not knowing who or where he was, by some sad mischance it appeared that Theodore Nott had been obliviated, and bright student that he used to be, the now ex-member of Slytherin house would be spending some considerable time being re-educated. Eventually he would lead a completely normal life, except that the life he would lead would not be his own, and perhaps considering his family's past and present that was no bad thing. For when it was learned that an uncle of his had led the attack on Hogsmead, all sympathy for the boy suddenly evaporated, and he didn't have all that much to begin with.
Ron glared at his sister and the boy sitting next to her in the library where they were working together, and made an uncomplimentary noise by sucking air through his teeth. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading.
"Oh for goodness sake Ron, give them a break," she whispered at him. "She seems so much happier, and what's wrong with him anyway?"
"Nothing I suppose," was the morose reply, "but honestly Hermione, Colin Creevey? Surely she could do better that that?"
Hermione regarded Ron critically; not having brothers or sisters herself it made him hard to judge, but she felt that he was taking brotherly concern a little too far in this case. "How many boys do you know that would have acted in the same way and stood between Ginny and a giant, and then a possible attack from a dragon?"
"Apart from me?"
"Yes, you don't count," she said dryly.
"Thanks," and then he thought for a while, "One," he said eventually.
"Who?" she asked, already knowing what he would say, and Ron knew that she knew.
"Harry," he said with a resigned tone, and it was the right answer. So Hermione gave him an over the glasses look and a questioning raise of her eyebrows. "Oh…well I suppose in that case," and as Ginny looked up he caught her eye and gave her a big grin. She stared back at him and sadly shook her head quite convinced that her brother was still a little dizzy from the effects of all those stunners, and was possibly quite mad.
* * *
Harry was back in the Gryffindor common room, he had spent most of the morning with the Headmistress and Kingsley Shacklebolt going through the incident in Hogsmead. The fallout from the attack had not been all bad, although Hogsmead weekends were now a thing of the past for the foreseeable future; one of the beneficial consequences was that there now appeared to be the addition of a draconic guard for the school. Norbert was to be allowed to stay and become a permanent fixture.
Hermione's fears for Hagrid and Gawp proved groundless. Despite Norbert's reaction to the other giants his meeting with the Magical Creatures Professor and his brother proved that the dragon had obviously retained his 'attachment' to Hagrid and that possibly because of Gawp's relatively small stature, well at least for a giant he was tolerated as well.
Hagrid was of course ecstatic at having his pet back, though Harry privately thought that the idea that Norbert could be considered a pet was all in Hagrid's mind. The dragon himself must have thought so too, as he refused to use the nest that Hagrid prepared for him down by his hut, using instead the cave high up in the mountains behind the castle that he had used since his escape from Mountfitchet Castle. Harry had seen the place for himself; he had followed the dragon on a broom, marvelled at the view, and returned to reassure Hagrid that Norbert was living in draconic luxury.
Now Harry was waiting for Hermione, he was sitting on the sofa and dozing in front of the fire, when she slipped through the portrait hole and crept up behind him. As she leaned over the back of the sofa to wake him with a kiss she found herself grabbed by the arms and pulled forwards to end up in Harry's lap.
"That'll teach you to try and creep up on me," he said, smiling at her, but she didn't care because she got her kiss in the end. They sat and talked for a while and the conversation eventually came around to the fight in Hogsmead, but it was Hermione who brought up the comparison.
"November and Hogsmead don't go together well do they Harry?"
"Why, what do you mean?" he asked from the depths of the part of his girlfriend where her neck met her shoulder.
"Harry! someone might come in," she giggled half-heartedly trying to defend herself, "Well, first there was the year when you found out about Sirius, when you thought he was the one who betrayed your parents. Then last year was when you nearly strangled Mundungus, and this year… Ohh Harry …don't!" And much to her surprise Harry didn't.
He emerged from under her hair and sat bolt upright, "Mundungus! I can't believe I forgot about that slime ball."
"What about him Harry," Hermione could not reconcile the little thief with anything important.
"Don't you remember he had a suitcase full of stuff from Grimmauld Place?" he said. "There were rings, necklaces, cups; all sorts of small items, and other jewellery." She could see the excitement in his face.
"The locket?" she guessed.
"Exactly," he replied then he puffed out his cheeks and appeared to deflate. "Trouble is I can't remember, if it was there."
"How about trying Dumbledore's pensive?" Hermione made the suggestion tentatively. She was not the only one that had noticed that Harry rarely mentioned the old man anymore and he never acknowledged the white tomb that drew everyone's gaze like a magnet. It was almost as if in order to bear the pain he had blanked Dumbledore out of his mind.
He gave her an uncomfortable look, which softened the moment he saw the concern in her eyes. "Yes perhaps that's not a bad idea," he conceded, and once having made the decision he was not slow to act on it.
Half an hour later Harry and Hermione were in Professor McGonagall office. The Headmistress had raised no objections to them using the Pensive, only suggesting that they pack it away once they were done. She left the two students with the pensive sitting on the table between them; there was a pause in the proceedings because Harry had absolutely no idea what to do next. Then he tried to remember the way Dumbledore had used the shallow stone bowl and Harry thought back to the time when they were with Molly Weasley cleaning out Grimmauld Place. Cautiously he touched his wand to his temple, and concentrated on the memory he wanted to transfer, Ollivander had told him to always trust his wand and so that is what he did.
As he drew the thoughts from his head and the silver strand touched the bowl of the pensive Harry experienced a very peculiar sensation. It was like being unravelled, memories he didn't know he possessed flicked past his consciousness like the frames of a film, each one slightly different to the last and each one meaningless until viewed in concert with the others. The last frame passed and Harry broke the contact, the silver stream ceased, and he looked into the pensive to see the memory swirling around like a wind with no air. Hermione was watching him intently.
"You ok Harry?" she asked reaching out to touch his hand.
"Err… Yeah fine," he smiled but he didn't sound so sure. He swallowed and the faint feeling of nausea faded away. "Wow! … it's a really weird feeling, I suppose this must get easier the more you do it."
"You want to go on?"
"Give me a minute and I'll be fine, the next bit I've done before." Harry took a sip from the goblet of water Hermione had conjured for him. "Thanks," he took a deep breath, "right, let's see what I remember."
Diving into a memory was a new experience for Hermione and she held tightly to Harry's hand as they fell, and was comforted by his warm presence. They landed at the back of the drawing room standing in front of the tapestry of the Black family tree, and stared about the dark and dingy room. There on the other side of the room trying to sort out the contents of several glass fronted cupboards were Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, Ginny and to the watching Harry's sadness, Sirius. The real Harry felt the squeeze of her hand as Hermione saw the object of his gaze, then sighing, for what might have been, he concentrated on the scene before them.
He had forgotten how many bits of this and that they had cleared out that summer, he did recall that he never wanted to embark on another house tidying as long as he lived, but then he expected that most boys felt that way, it never occurred to him that Hermione was having exactly the same thoughts. As Harry watched he also became aware that there was something else he had missed, from his new vantage point he saw the little glances Hermione made in his direction, the concerned look on her face and the sadness at his manner.
"I know it's late, but I am sorry," said Harry.
"Sorry for what?" Hermione asked, never taking her eyes off the stream of trinkets that descended into Sirius' sack.
"That," he pointed as the image Hermione held out a tentative hand of friendship and comfort, which the image Harry completely ignored.
"Oh, yes, well, you had a lot on your plate, and you weren't in a very good mood."
"Not a good excuse though is it," Harry said quietly.
"No, but you've made up for it since then," she gave him a wicked little grin. Then her attention snapped back to the tableau before them. "Look there, in Sirius' hand." Sure enough there was a gold locket, it was passed from person to person and all of them attempted to open it, all except Harry who was distracted by Kreacher trying to abscond to the kitchen and his den with a large silver plate. This time they watched the passage of the locket and as with all the other stuff it ended up in the sack which eventually Sirius carried out and up the stairs. The memory ended and Harry and Hermione found themselves back in the Headmistress's office, staring at each other over the swirling contents of the pensive.
"Do you think Mundungus took it?" Hermione asked.
"It would seem to be a good call, but there is only one way to find out," he replied scratching his head. Harry looked at his girlfriend and smiled. "I wonder what we would have to do to get sent to Azkaban."
"You're not serious Harry!" Ron had grave doubts of his friend's sanity. "There must be some other way?"
Harry was regretting leading Ron on, he had only suggested blowing up the Minister so they would be sent to Azkaban as a joke. Unfortunately Ron didn't get it.
"Calm down Ron, neither of us is going to do anything of the sort," said Hermione giving Harry a glare. "We thought we would wait until the Christmas holiday and have a word with your Dad." she explained. "We were going to speak to Tonks or Remus but we know they are busy."
"Oh well in that case," Ron straightened his ruffled feathers, "I'll come with you… if you like?"
"Wouldn't have wanted it any other way, mate," said Harry trying to make up for his error.
* * *
As the scarlet steam engine pulled out of Hogsmead Station, carrying the school home for the Christmas holidays, Harry and Hermione were making their way from the garage by the Shrieking Shack up onto the road that led away from the village. Once they were sure they were out of sight of anyone who may have been outside on that cold and blustery day, they concentrated on their destination and vanished without a sound, seconds later they appeared on the gravel path that ran to the front door of the white cottage in Godrics Hollow. They had six days before they were to meet Ron and Arthur at Grimmauld Place. Ron had sent Pig to his father two days before the end of term with a request from Harry to meet him, the reply had arrived back the following day, and as a consequence all of them would be in London on Friday. For the moment however Harry and Hermione were by themselves and in the security of their new home they intended to make the most of it.
Hermione had become to realise that this sort of existence with Harry at the cottage was her vision of life after Voldemort, but lurking at the back of her mind was her greatest fear that it may never happen. She was well aware that that possibly either she, Harry or both of them may not survive the final meeting with the Dark Lord, so these few days of peace and tranquillity, if they were all they were allowed, would be enjoyed to the full. As the days passed Hermione began to love them more and more and far from her being satisfied she began to crave their continuation, it was not surprising that her determination to see a safe end to the war for all of them grew and grew.
For Harry this place was a refuge, here he could be himself, away from the danger and discomfort that had been his companions for as long as he could remember. True the danger had only become apparent in the last few years but even at Hogwarts he had never felt this free from trouble, and he had to fight the urge to lock the front door and tell the rest of the world to 'go fish'. He had Hermione, he had their magic to sustain them and he even had Dobby, though how the house elf knew where to come was beyond him, but he knew that it was not enough. He imagined them locked safely inside; Tom's men in their dark robes searching fruitlessly for them, but beyond the cottage the world would be a sad and blackened place. He could see his friends enslaved, or dead, Hogwarts destroyed, and magic corrupted to an evil force that would control both his own kind and the muggles as well, and he knew that he could not let that happen.
The days passed peacefully enough, the nights were intense in part, and in others so gentle and relaxing that the heights reached were even greater than when the passion was uncontrolled. There was no doubt that the physical side of their relationship was enjoyed by them both. Occasionally there was a little awkwardness, but as their familiarity with each other grew, this became a cause more of giggles than embarrassment, and an understanding of love that neither of them had appreciated until now.
On that last Thursday night Harry had awoken, he was on his back and Hermione was laid across him her body pressing into his. The moon was out and in the pale light that filtered through the window giving everything in the room a bluish glow, he looked down and studied the line of her back. With the sheet pulled back she was uncovered to the base of her spine, her skin was smooth and soft and her body curved just in the right places. As he ran his hand down he felt the warmth of her and her closeness to him which made his heart beat hard in his chest. She moved a little under his touch and made a slight sound in her sleep, Harry gave a sigh of deep contentment, he wondered how he had ever managed without her, but then he had never really been without her had he? From that moment on the train she was part of his life, not quite like now that was true, but she had been there. Now he knew he would never really 'live' without her by his side, and he knew that if she wasn't there he wouldn't really want to. He shut his eyes again and concentrated on her breathing and the movement of her body that it enjoined, in this wonderful embrace, he was slowly and surely rocked back to sleep again.
The magical alarm was set for six o'clock, and when it began to roar Hermione stirred, she reached for her wand and tapped the small Hungarian Horntail on the head, it stopped its pacing on the bedside table, yawned and curled up once more and went back to sleep. She flopped an arm to Harry's side of the bed, he wasn't there but the sheets were still warm from his presence. Raising her head she looked about the room, it was very dark but she could see him standing by the window gazing out to the valley below and the few twinkling lights from Godrics Hollow that reminded them that they were not the only two people on the planet.
"Are you alright Harry?" she asked still with the slur of sleep in her voice.
"Me? yeh I'm ok, I just wish…" his voice tailed off leaving the wish unspoken.
"Yeh, me too," she said knowing exactly what was on his mind, "Come back to bed Harry, we've plenty of time," her gentle plea was rewarded by Harry slipping back under the covers, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her most soundly. A little later, as the dragon roared once more, they finally disentangled themselves from each other, forced themselves out of bed, and prepared for the trip to London.
* * *
Number 12 Grimmauld Place was much as Harry remembered it, although it had benefited from having Remus and Tonks in permanent residence, to Harry it still reminded him too much of Sirius, and the thoughts were painful. Although now reconciled to the death of his parents, it occurred to Harry that everything he ever loved he lost, his Mum and Dad, Sirius, and Dumbledore, were all gone and he wondered where would it end? He gazed at Hermione sitting across the kitchen table from him, she was reading yesterday's Prophet, she looked up and smiled, and his heart missed a beat, but he put a very firm lid on his morbid thoughts, and grinned back. Ron and Arthur arrived at the house not long after, and Harry skirting around the real reason for wanting to talk to Mundungus, presented his case to the older Weasley.
"Difficult Harry," Arthur Weasley scratched his balding head, "But visits can be arranged, I expect it will boil down to the way the Minister is feeling about you at the moment."
"No problem then," said Ron confidently, "Harry is in Scrimgeour's good books for now, aren't you Harry?"
"Err yes, I suppose I am," He looked questioningly at Ron's father, how could he not know about the battles at Mountfitchet and Hogsmead? Arthur appeared very distracted, he was often a little vague but this was not the same, then he caught Ron's eye and Harry knew that all was not well in the Weasley household.
"Dad's been off work for the last month," Ron confided to Harry and Hermione later that morning after Arthur had promised to do what he could, "This is his first day back," Ron took a very deep breath before continuing. "Bill has not been responding well to his… condition," he said sadly. "He was ok to start with, and using the Wolfsbane potion each month seemed to work, but now each time is worse than the last. Ginny and I only found out how bad things were when we got home. I always thought Bill would be ok, …I mean …not normal or anything, but like Remus, coping, now I don't know…Mum and Dad have taken it very hard. You see we haven't had any official visitors to the Burrow since it became obvious that Bill was in such a bad way." Ron was controlling himself well until Hermione put an arm around his shoulders, then several large tears appeared and rolled down his cheeks. "So they know very little about what is going on, Ginny and I didn't even tell them about Umbridge and the Slytherins. We couldn't give them anything more to worry about could we?" Ron looked back and forth between his two friends willing them to tell him that he had done the right thing.
"Course not mate." said Harry emphatically, "I only wish there was something we could do to help."
Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead, "Damn I am so stupid, I've got it in my bag but I had completely forgotten about it until now."
"What?" asked Harry.
"Greyback's potion, I meant to give it to Remus to look at, but maybe Fleur or Bill would be better. Anyway it's possible it could help the both of them."
"Do you have any idea what she is talking about Harry?" Ron was looking very confused and upset at the same time.
Harry suddenly smiled as the penny dropped, "Yes," he said, "It's all to do…."
But Ron interrupted "I don't need to know the details, as long as you two think it will help we can try, err… what ever it is."
The three of them spent the rest of the morning searching Grimmauld Place just to make sure the locket wasn't sitting on a shelf somewhere in the house asking to be picked up. They found the remnants of Sirius' sack in the attic room that Buckbeak had used, there were a few bits and pieces scattered over the floor but of the locket there was no sign. The cupboards in the sitting room were as empty as the day they had finished clearing them out two years ago, and as lunch time approached they gave up the search, left the house, and making sure they were no muggles about, apparated to the Burrow.
The Weasley's home usually full of noise and bustle was quiet and felt strangely empty and Ron's cry of "MUM!" echoed eerily around the house. The sound of shuffling feet heralded the appearance of Molly Weasley as she came into the kitchen from the direction of the sitting room. Harry was shocked and Hermione gave little gasp because the usual jolly but forceful Molly was replaced by a pale shrunken old woman, the only part of her face that had any colour were her eyes and they were red from crying. Ron sagged, clearly upset by his mother's condition, then shouldering the woes of his family, straightened and putting a comforting arm around Molly helped her to the kitchen table. There was no need for words between the three friends, the expression on Ron's face said it all. Harry felt the lump rise in his throat, these people were as good as family to him and at the moment helping them was as important as getting Voldemort. Hermione was trying to be business like but the tears were pricking at her eyes as she watched, and her voice wavered with emotion as she asked Ron where she might find Fleur and Bill.
"Percy's old room I think Hermione," Ron told her not taking his eyes of his mother.
"Thanks Ron," she moved to the stairs, "Harry?" she called beckoning to him.
"Err… right." and he started to follow her, when he was halted by a very quiet voice.
"Nice to see you again Harry,"
"Thank-you Mrs Weasley it's….." he didn't know how to continue.
"Don't worry Harry," Ron cut in, "Go and see if you can help Hermione. We'll make some tea won't we Mum?" he said with mock cheerfulness.
"Yes dear of course," but there was no heart in the words.
Harry shook his head sadly and followed Hermione up the stairs, she was waiting for him on the landing, she threw her arms around him and began to cry quietly into his shoulder.
"Do you really think Greyback's potion will help in any way?" Harry asked as he comforted his girlfriend.
"I don't know Harry," Hermione dried her eyes on the sleeve of her coat, "I just don't know."
The visit with Bill and Fleur was possibly even more traumatic than seeing Molly so badly affected. Bill was obviously seriously ill and even though it transpired that the St. Mungo's healers had given up on him, Fleur remained stoically positive that she could help him. While Hermione and Fleur discussed the potion at great lengths, Harry sat in the chair at Bill's bedside and wondered if he could do anything to help the man. There was more than just the lycanthropy affecting Bill that was very clear, Harry wondered if Greyback's bite carried something else as well, some form of venom, that was slowly killing Ron's oldest brother.
Harry remained behind when Fleur and Hermione apparated, taking the potion to the wizarding hospital to see if the healers thought it may be of use. He sat quietly next to the fitfully sleeping Bill and his thoughts turned to someone he had tried to wipe from his mind last June. He had tried because it was less painful than remembering, but it hadn't really worked, the old man was always there; a small version of him sat on Harry's shoulder whispering in his ear, and usually Harry listened to the advice. Now, in this sad place, Harry really concentrated on the essence that made up Albus Dumbledore, what advice would he give?
Harry unconsciously gripped his wand tightly in his hands as he thought. The Headmasters face became blindingly clear in his mind and Harry opened his eyes. The picture remained, Harry could almost see Dumbledore standing in front of him, and he asked his question.
"What do I do?"
Harry's imagined Dumbledore winked at him, and his eyes twinkled behind his half moon glasses, then he stepped to one side and flourished his arm at the window as if in introduction and as he faded from Harry's mind the most wonderful sound of Phoenix song soared above the groaning of the man in the bed. Harry rushed to the window and opened it, an icy blast made him shiver then with a flurry of gold and scarlet feathers a large bird flew into the room and landed on his shoulder.
"'Lo Fawkes," Harry greeted the phoenix in a very quiet voice. The bird warbled in recognition and lowered his head to touch Harry on the cheek. The touch was light and fleeting but Harry instantly felt the wetness on his skin as a phoenix tear rubbed off on his face. Fawkes hopped down onto the table and looked sideways at Harry, the tears continued dripping from the bird's eyes and splashed on to the polished wooden surface. The realisation hit Harry like a hammer blow and he grabbed a glass goblet from those set with the water pitcher by Bill's bedside and began to catch the drops.
"Do you think this will help?" Harry asked of Fawkes, who did not reply but turning his head from side to side continued to cry. "Of course you do, or you wouldn't be doing this," Harry went on, still talking to the Phoenix and answering his own question at the same time. Harry gazed at the beautiful animal and continued his one sided conversation.
"How on earth did you know to come?" he marvelled, and in answer the bird lifted one foot and placed it on the wand Harry had placed on the table, when he had picked up the goblet. "Oh," Harry almost sounded disappointed, "I thought …just hoped really that… silly of me," and he lapsed into silence.
The Phoenix had stopped crying now and looked expectantly at Harry, who with goblet in hand leaned over to Bill and lifted his head from the pillow. He placed the glass to the lips that moved incessantly in delirium and he tipped it and the phoenix tears ran into Bills mouth. Fawkes began to sing, Bill gagged then swallowed, and as the phoenix song grew louder and louder Harry could feel the magical sound lift him as renewed hope flooded into his very being. As the song reached its climax the bedroom door opened to reveal Ron and his mother standing on the threshold, Harry turned and for the first time saw hope in Molly's face, Ron was just grinning from ear to ear. The last notes faded away and Fawkes hopped from the table to the windowsill, at a tap from his beak the windows slowly opened and Fawkes turned his head once more to Harry.
"Thanks Fawkes," Harry said smiling at the Phoenix who warbled in reply and then spreading his wings he threw himself into the air. Three faces crowded at the window and watched as the bird rapidly diminished in the sky and then vanished from view. A cough from the bed drew them back inside to see Bill lever himself up off the pillows and regard them with a look of puzzlement.
"What's been going on Mum? And where is Fleur?" he said in a rather shaky voice.
"You've been rather unwell," she managed the understatement well considering the tears that were rolling down her face. She turned and gripped Harry in a fierce embrace. "Thank-you Harry, I don't know what we would do without you." and she gave him a very wet kiss on the cheek.
Harry only went slightly pink and was rescued by Ron who clapped him on the back "Come on Harry let's go downstairs I think there are some butterbeers in the larder." he gave Harry a conspiratorial wink.
"Thanks Ron I could do with one," and Harry allowed himself to be led away from a rapidly improving Bill and an increasingly mothering Molly.
Harry sat and drank his butterbeer while Ron busied himself trying to contact the rest of his family. Setting a magical fire in the grate, Ron stuck his head in the green flames at the same time saying quite clearly "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." Harry couldn't hear the rest of the conversation but once back in the kitchen Ron's head said "Fred, George, and Ginny. …She's working there during the holidays," he added by way of explanation. Then his head disappeared again with the epithet "Ministry of Magic, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office." After a short silence Ron reappeared, his face was all sooty and his hair was smoking gently, Harry handed him a towel, before he burst into flames. "Phew! Thanks. Well that's everyone; Dad will pass the word onto Percy and Charlie, do you know where Fleur and Hermione went?"
"St.Mungo's I think," Harry replied as he passed a bottle of butterbeer to his charred friend.
"Well we will just have to wait until they get back, they could be anywhere." and Ron took a large swig out of his bottle. "Hot work." and he smiled at Harry, then for no particular reason the two of them burst out laughing.
Hermione knew something had changed the instant she entered the kitchen with Fleur, both of them stopped in amazement because they were greeted by the sight of a much happier Molly Weasley standing by the stove heating some soup and singing a merry little tune.
"Bill's much better!" Molly cried as she saw Fleur standing there with a look of astonishment on her face, the younger Mrs Weasley needed no further encouragement and giving a shriek of joy dashed towards the stairs and was up them in an instant.
"What's been going on?" Hermione asked Ron and Harry as she joined them at the kitchen table.
"Our Harry has had a visitor," said Ron passing Hermione a bottle of butterbeer, and she shot a look at her boyfriend.
"Fawkes," said Harry simply.
"Phoenix tears," Hermione gasped, and Harry could see the hope in her eyes.
"Yes and a bit of a song." Harry closed his eyes remembering that sweet sound." That did us all the world of good," he added.
The atmosphere in the Burrow that evening was much lighter than it had been for quite some while and all the family, even Percy, were in attendance. Harry and Hermione sat quietly in a corner while the Weasleys engaged each other in their usual attempts to out Weasley each other and for once Molly didn't try to calm them down. The high jinks came to an end, when in an effort to get at George; Fred began to levitate the kitchen table out of his way. At this point Molly intervened and everyone was obliged to settle and continue with less potentially destructive pursuits. Ginny, who had been giving Harry and Hermione surreptitious glances for most of the evening and gauging her mother's reaction to the closeness of the pair decided that the time was right for her to ask for a favour of her own.
"Would you mind if I had a friend over for part of the Christmas Holidays?" was the quietly asked question she put to her mother.
Molly thought for a moment working out the logistics of another body to find room for. "I can't see any problem, she'll have to share with you, Luna, if she comes, and possibly Hermione," then she looked at the last named sitting on Harry's lap with her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. "Though maybe not Hermione," she added thoughtfully. Ginny gave a little giggle at her mother's expression, it was not disapproving, if anything it was a little wistful, and Ginny decided it was safe to continue.
"Err… he is not a girl," Ginny said slowly and deliberately.
Molly's eyebrows shot up so far that they were almost launched off her face. "Why do you want to ask a boy?" said Molly before she realised how stupid the question was. Her children were growing up far too fast and the realisation hit her that Ginny was no longer a little girl, well it had to happen some time, and the reason was obvious, but the answer Ginny gave her was not the one she expected.
"Because he saved my life," Ginny said it slightly louder than she intended and the conversation in the room suddenly went very quiet. Ron groaned, and the look on Arthur's face betrayed the fact that he had learned a few things once he had returned to work that he had failed to pass on to his wife. So now there was nothing for it but to tell her everything, and as they did so Molly's face reflected anger, horror and finally thankfulness that her children had survived relatively unscathed. Harry listened not to the story, he knew it well but to the small voice that was talking in his mind, and now it had talked it had implanted that thought yet again. Harry hated that thought, he had almost controlled it, but it had got away from him again, and it sat there pointing the accusing finger. There was no doubt that because of him Ginny and Ron had been in danger. He needed to apologise, to beg forgiveness, to explain, Harry stood dislodging Hermione from his lap and walked over to Molly.
"I'm so sorry Mrs Weasley this is all my…" but he was prevented from going on by a chorus of "NO IT'S NOT" from the Weasleys and Hermione. His panic subsided, now he stood there rather embarrassed not knowing what to say, so Molly said it for him.
"Oh Harry, what are we going to do with you?" she smiled at him. "I can't stop you from blaming yourself but you must know that none of us blame you. This is a fight that no one wants but we are in it. Some of us have been in one before; we know what it is like," she glanced at Arthur, "you mustn't take everything so personally, as long as we win in the end that is all that matters."
Harry nodded accepting her words all the time knowing that as far as Tom and he were concerned it was very personal. At least Ron and Hermione knew and he thought that Professor McGonagall had guessed that the war would not end until the two of them met, and it comforted him that his friends had confidence in him. He wondered how the rest would feel if they knew that their future depended on a seventeen year old partly trained wizard defeating the most evil mind the wizarding world possessed. They must never know and he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and accepted Mrs Weasley's assurances that all would be well.
Hermione watched Harry closely, perhaps she knew him too well but that was a near thing, everything had become much clearer to him since his talk with his parents but the longer this all went on the harder it was going to be for him to remain focused, there were too many blind alleys, false leads and disappointing results, what they needed now was a bit of luck.
"This is a bit of luck." said Harry the following morning. He was reading the owl he had received from the Ministry not two minutes ago. Arthur had confided in him last night that permission was likely to be given for him to visit Mundungus but he would have to wait for official notification. Now he had it the brilliant green words standing out on the cream parchment, and the Ministry seal in bright red wax to make it official. "It's an open pass," he told Hermione, "we can go when we like."
"Sooner the better don't you think?" she replied linking arms with him as they walked to the wall at the end of the Weasley's garden.
"Just what I was going to say," said Ron, walking with them at Harry's other side.
Harry grinned, progress he liked that. "My thoughts exactly, ready?" they all took one last look at the apparation directions on the parchment and then silently they vanished.
Ginny sighed, she had been watching them out of the kitchen window, and jumped a little when her mother spoke from directly behind her.
"Sad Ginny?"
"No, not really, just thinking," She replied, then she turned to her mother and asked,
"Mum, you never said last night, can Colin come for Christmas?"
"Can't really say no, can I?" and her mother smiled at her daughter's jubilation.
"Thanks I'll send him an owl straight away."
* * *
The apparation point on the island that held Azkaban prison was a wind swept patch of stone close to the main gates of the forbidding edifice that was constantly pounded by the restless seas that surrounded it. At least the spray from the waves didn't quite reach this spot, but the air was damp with it and Harry was rapidly losing his ability to see as his glasses misted over. He felt the tap of a wand against the frame of the now useless pair of spectacles and like magic the lenses cleared and he could see the smiling face of Hermione as she replaced her wand in her coat pocket.
"Thanks," he said and smiled back, "Do you reckon we have to knock?" but his question went unanswered, as the sound of the small sally port in the main door being unlocked and swung open, made it irrelevant.
A hand appeared in the opening and a long crooked finger beckoned them in, as the hand withdrew into the gloom beyond the door the three glanced at each other, then Harry shrugged his shoulders and walked forwards. It was very dark inside and almost as damp, it was also bitterly cold. The wizard waiting for them was not very tall and he held a shielded lantern in one hand and the edge of the door in the other, which he pushed shut immediately the three had entered. He wore a long thick cloak similar to those that many wizards used when travelling, but as Harry surmised correctly he rarely travelled, the cloak was purely for warmth.
"Sneck," the man said.
"Sorry?" said Ron.
The man grumbled in irritation, "My name is Sneck," he said it slowly as if he was talking to an idiot, and looking at Ron the whole time. "Which of you is Potter?"
"Err… that's me," said Harry.
"Pass?" Sneck was not one to waste words. Harry fumbled in his coat pocket and retrieved the parchment bearing the Ministry seal. Sneck appeared to scrutinise the document thoroughly though Harry doubted he could see much in the dim light. The man mumbled as he read, then seemingly satisfied said in a clearer voice, "This way," and he shuffled off down the passageway that led into the depths of the prison.
The building was a labyrinth of dark and dingy corridors that split and divided in so many directions that Harry knew he would never be able to find his way out again without their strange guide. He imagined this maze full of Dementors as well, truly a prison it would be impossible to escape from, and yet Sirius had managed it. He wondered who guarded the prison now that the Dementors were gone, and was about to ask when Hermione beat him to it.
Sneck fixed her with a disturbing stare. "Unwise to ask, and I would be more of a fool to answer," he said cryptically, "but the Wizengamont always had the option to use them only Dumbledore would never allow it," he tapped the side of his nose in a conspiratorial gesture. "Smart man that Dumbledore, he maintained that they were too dangerous and would get away from us one day. Just like the Dementors did but it will be much worse for us and the muggles if they ever do."
Hermione paled at his explanation and swallowed nervously, but asked. "What do 'They' do to you?"
"To look them in the eyes causes madness in an instant, scrambles your brains they do. No chance of fighting them off, none at all and at their touch the flesh begins to melt off your bones. If you are lucky you may even die." The strange little man shuddered at the thought. "Seen it once, never want to see it again" he said. "When they are abroad only safe place is in the cells."
"They won't attack us will they?" asked Ron the nervousness obvious in his voice.
"No they won't," Sneck replied. He flourished the Ministry pass Harry had given him. "That is why this is so important."
"Oh," Ron sounded very dubious that a piece of parchment was going to protect anyone from anything so horrible that they wouldn't put a name to it, but Sneck would say no more.
After what seemed like hours they stopped in front of a cell door, Sneck touched it once with his wand, and a ringing sound like a hammer hitting an anvil reverberated down the passage. "Mundungus Fletcher, visitors!" Sneck called out, and the door swung open. "I will wait for you over there," he told Harry indicating an empty cell on the other side of the corridor. "Do not come out until I come for you." With that he turned on his heel and walked away. Harry and the others hurried into Dung's cell and Ron pushed the door shut behind them.
Mundungus looked like prison didn't agree with him. If it was possible he was even shabbier than ever, he stared at the young witch and wizards standing in his cell not believing that they were there until Harry spoke.
"How are you Dung?" he asked. Although he didn't like the man and had felt no sympathy for his plight when he heard he had been arrested, he now realised what an awful place Azkaban was and he pitied the sneak thief.
"Harry that you?" Mundungus mumbled, "'Course can see it is." There was no bitterness in his voice, he sounded mightily tired, and as if all hope had left him. "I got a year Harry, did you know? A whole year, …in this place it might as well be a thousand." He gazed at the confines of his bare cell. "If the inside doesn't send you mad, then those things out there will." he nodded toward the corridor. "Can you get me out early Harry?" the man was pleading now, "I'll do anything, anything you ask. I'll not last a whole year, not a whole year."
This despair was no act, even Harry could see that, and Hermione was gripping his hand tightly and when he looked at her Harry could see the compassion in her eyes. Strangely it was Ron who appeared unaffected by the thief's condition and he remained stony faced, and unforgiving.
"I don't know if I can do anything Dung, but if you help us I will see what I can do." Harry said with sincerity.
"Anything Harry anything, like I said," there was hope in his eyes, only a glimmer but it was hope, and mixed in with it was a tiny bit of the old Fletcher cunning.
"I want to know if you have ever seen this," Harry drew his wand and made a circling motion and floating in midair was an enlarged image of the locket, it spun slowly on one end as if to display itself. "It was in Sirius' house, was it amongst the things you took?"
Mundungus stared hard at the gold trinket. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure."
"Damn, think Dung think," said Harry sharply.
"I don't know Harry, I wasn't the only one to take things" the thief wailed, "but…" he beckoned Harry closer, "I never sold any of the stuff from 'you know where', it's with all my other things …in my stash."
"And where might that be," said Harry tightly.
"Oh can't tell you that. Get me out and I'll take you there." Mundungus realised he had a bargaining chip and intended to use it.
"No," the pronouncement sounded very final and Mundungus winced. "In fact," Harry countered, "if you don't tell me, much as I would hate to do it, I will tell the Ministry you are withholding vital information that could help in the defeat of Voldemort," the name made Mundungus squeak and shuffle back on his bed. "How much longer would they keep you here then?"
The thief agonised over letting this prize piece of information out of his possession but he knew he wouldn't get one over on Harry, not today, and his shoulders sagged. "Ok Harry you win, just do your best for me." He scribbled on a scrap of parchment. "That's the address. It will be locked up but I don't suppose she will find it hard to get in," he nodded toward Hermione and scowled at her. "Don't forget to lock it up again afterwards," he added as Harry turned to call for Sneck.
As the warder opened the door to the cell Harry took one last look at Mundungus Fletcher. His pity was tempered by the man's insatiable deviousness. "One last thing Dung," Harry spoke clearly so there would be no doubting his meaning, "When you do get out of here, look for another country to practice your art in, because if you get caught again I will make it my business to see you stay in this prison for a very long time."
The little man gave a nervous giggle, he wasn't sure if Harry was being serious, but he made his mind up not to put it to the test. "Right you are Harry," he waved them goodbye, "Right you are."
The journey back through the dark corridors seemed to take an age and would have been quite uneventful but for the sound of a name spoken with such malice that the words sent a shiver down the backs of all three of the youngsters.
"Harry Potter," the voice had lost much of its superciliousness, but it was laced with a loathing that was unmistakable. "Well, well didn't imagine I would ever see you in here."
Harry turned and framed in the bars of the small opening in one of the cell doors was a face. It was long and thin and the white blonde hair was long and thin as well, both were streaked with dirt, it seemed that Azkaban was being as hard on Lucius Malfoy as it was on Mundungus.
"I see that the blood traitor and the little mudblood are still in tow," he said giving Ron and Hermione a meaningful glare. "I am surprised that one or other hasn't succumbed to the Dark Lord yet, but I suppose there is still time," Lucius laughed and although the laugh turned into a hacking cough it didn't stop him from watching with interest as Ron bridled at the taunt and that Hermione grabbed a tighter hold of Harry's arm and tried to pull him back. "The mudblood has some sense after all," goaded Lucius, but the young wizard was not to be drawn, he stared back at the face his gaze steady. Hermione continued to try to encourage Harry to leave but he steadied her and to reassure her all was well her took her hand, kissed and patted it, replacing it on his arm once again. Malfoy grinned, "Oh so that is the way of it eh Harry? Enjoy her while you can. The Dark Lord may have forgotten me but you can be sure he won't have forgotten you, or your little friends."
a
Harry was not unaffected by Lucius' taunts for Hermione holding on to his arm could feel him trembling, as he fought to control the thoughts in his mind and she surmised prevent himself from unleashing a spell at Draco's father.
As it was Harry finally found his voice, "Don't worry about us Mr Malfoy, we can take care of ourselves," he smiled at the man, "I would have thought that under the circumstances you would be more concerned about Draco." Lucius' eyes took on a look of incomprehension, he obviously knew little of what was happening on the outside, and with those few words Harry had neatly planted a seed of doubt in his mind. Harry turned from the cell leading Ron and Hermione away, by the time they reached the next corner Lucius must have regained some of his composure and they heard him shout,
"What about Draco? …What has happened to him? …POTTER! ...POTTER!" But he received only silence from the departing group and then he heard the gentle rustling sound as the guards returned to his corridor, and he backed away from the door in fear.
The frantic shouting faded into the distance and as it did Harry felt the tension leave him and he relaxed into the girl by his side. Hermione snuggled as close as she could as they walked down the dark corridors, and he in return held on to her, welcoming her warmth and support.
"Not very proud of that, like kicking someone when they're down." said Harry quietly in Hermione's ear.
"And you think he wouldn't have done the same? Do him good to worry for a change." she said with none of the sympathy she had shown for Mundungus.
"Shows he does care about someone other than himself," put in Ron, only hearing half of the conversation. "Phew! Glad we got away from there, I though you were going to hex him for sure," said Ron to Harry as they descended the final spiral staircase to the main door.
"Close," said Harry.
"Fortunate," said Sneck. "The use of magic in the halls draws the err… guards, the parchment would not have protected us then."
"Would Malfoy have known that?" asked Hermione shakily. Sneck nodded and she looked to Harry who puffed out his cheeks in relief that he had not responded, it had obviously been a fairly near thing.
* * *
They returned to the Burrow and appeared in the lane that skirted around the garden. It was dark, even this early in the evening, and the light from the kitchen streamed out on to the short path that led from the garden gate to the back door. The movement of people inside the kitchen made the light flicker and Harry correctly guessed that the whole of the Weasley clan and friends were gathered to celebrate Bill's return to normality, if still being a werewolf could be called normal. Ron ran on in front eager to join the festivities, but Harry hung back and Hermione, still holding tightly to him, stayed with him.
"What's up Harry?" she asked, knowing precisely what the problem was. "You want to find out if it's there don't you?"
Harry gave her an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, I don't want to keep you from all that …it looks nice and warm in there," he said pointing up the path to the house, then he shivered himself, "But if we don't get a break soon I think I am going to go crazy. Do you mind?"
"No need to ask, where is that address?"
Harry fumbled in his coat pocket, "Here it is," and he tipped the parchment into the light from the house. "14 Weavers Row, Monkton on Stow. Never heard of it, can't be much of a place," he said and Hermione nodded in agreement. "Is it enough of a direction to apparate to or should we use the bike?" he asked her.
Hermione considered, very briefly, a long trip on the Brutus Vampire on such a cold evening, and shivered at the thought, sketchy directions they may be but they would suit her, "No it will be fine, just concentrate very hard on the address." So that is what they did, and the pair of them vanished without a sound.
The night was even darker here than it had been at the Burrow and much colder. The moon crept out from behind a cloud and for a moment illuminated a really depressing landscape. The old factory, with its tall chimney and the small cramped streets that surrounded it, looked deserted. Many of the houses had boarded windows and those that didn't had broken panes of glass which only served to reinforce the desolation of the area. None of the street lamps were working and when the moon disappeared again the street was plunged back into darkness, skittering noises made them both jump and although they were invisible in the black of night Harry and Hermione knew that the place was infested with rats.
The moon provided a few moments of light again and Hermione quickly checking the faded number painted on the dirty green door confirmed they were outside number 14, she drew her wand and touched it to the lock "Alohomora" there was a click but the door remained closed Harry watched as Hermione considered her options to circumnavigate the little thief's security. Decision made she touched the lock again "Solvere Alohomora" and with a click the door moved back a few inches. Hermione gave Harry a quick grin of achievement and Harry smiled back he had not expected anything else from her. Harry gave the door a push and the it swung inwards silently on well oiled hinges, the smell of damp and decay was much stronger in the short hallway that led to a flight of stairs, but as up was the only way to go, up they went. Harry used his wand to light the way and as the landing only gave access to three doors the search took very little time. One doorway was to a small and very dirty bathroom, the second to a bedroom devoid of all furniture save the rickety looking bed, but it was the third room which overlooked the front of the house that contained the jackpot. Several boxes and a chest full of drawers and on the floor near the window the suitcase that Harry remembered Mundungus carrying that day in Hogsmead.
The sky outside had cleared and the moonlight fell through the window onto the suitcase illuminating it as if held in a spotlight. Harry extinguished his wand with a flick and they crossed the floor and knelt by the window. Hermione reached out and undid the clasp of the suitcase then lifted it open, the contents of the case glittered in the pale light and slowly she removed one item after another laying them out so that they could see exactly what each piece was.
The last trinket was placed on the floor and Hermione growled in frustration because the locket was not there. "I don't understand, if it's not at Grimmauld Place and its not here, where on earth could it be." She was voicing Harry's thoughts and he was struggling to find the answer as well. "It's almost as if some sprite had whisked it away."
Harry held out his hand to stop her talking, an idea had just come to him and he didn't want to lose it. "Dung said he was not the only one to take things from Sirius' house, remember?"
"Err… yes I think so," Hermione replied wondering where this was leading.
"And in the pensive who else was trying to take stuff out? We're not looking for a sprite Hermione; we're looking for an elf."
"Kreacher?" she asked in surprise. "But Harry you checked out his den ages ago and it wasn't there then."
"I know but that was after I sent him away, and if he has it with him now, then it will be at Hogwarts."
Hermione thought Harry was grasping at straws, but they were becoming desperate so any lead had to be followed. She slumped down and leaned against the wall, glancing out of the window as she did so. She would be very glad to leave this place it was so depressing, some parts of the wizarding world were old and dark but this place of muggle desolation was worse. There was someone shuffling down the street. He was a small fat man who moved with quick jerky movements as if he was afraid that someone was about to jump out on him. He could have been any of the old tramps that must use this area as a doss, and Hermione's heart went out to this unknown who had to exist in such depravity only when he turned and the moonlight struck him full in the face, did Hermione recognised him, and only barely manage to stifle her cry of surprise.
* * *